I'll Never Forgive You
by Lord 0f Storms
Summary: The new queen swears to do things differently to her brother. She intends to save the people without stooping to Logan's level. However, leading a country is much harder than it seems.
1. Prologue

**I'll Never Forgive You**

...

Prologue

...

"_Remember this, both of you: there's nothing more important than family."_

_The Princess stood awkwardly, a child in awe of her imposing mother. Her gangly teenage brother seemed similarly affected, but hid it beneath his usual moody demeanour. The pair of them had been bickering again – Princess Lucille had been caught sneaking out of the palace grounds yet again and her brother had taken it upon himself to tell her off for it. _

_She couldn't help it if she was enticed by the outside world. It was fascinating to see the bustle of Bowerstone Market or visit the old quarter where her mother had spent her earliest years before becoming a great hero. And of course, Elliot had dared her to sneak out. Logan didn't understand any of that though, he just yelled about how she was going to get herself in trouble – 'what if someone kidnapped and ransomed you', and all that. _

_The Queen was generally very lenient with her children. Since their father had passed away, she liked them to be independent – although she encouraged them to practice their combat skills and learn the laws and politics of the land. One thing she would never tolerate, however, was them quarrelling with each other._

"_But she was being thick again!" Logan protested. "I was just making sure she didn't get hurt. She's so stupid that she'd probably have fallen in the river if I hadn't stopped her."_

"_I'm _not_ stupid!" Lucille argued, kicking him in the ankle with all the strength she could muster._

_That turned out to be a good deal of strength as he hopped on the spot, clutching his foot. Logan glared at his indignant sister. "That hurt, you... you _trollop!"

_She aimed another kick at him, but her older brother evaded the attack. The Queen cleared her throat, folding her arms and surveying the pair with a thoroughly unimpressed expression. Her children quickly fell silent. They'd heard the stories about how their mother had once fought off fifty armed men whilst bouncing baby Logan on her hip. _Nobody with a brain _messed with her._

"_It's your responsibility to protect your sister," she told Logan patiently, now that she had their full attention. "And Lucille, it's yours to support your brother. You never know what might happen, and believe me – you don't want something to befall one of you, with all those feelings left unsaid. You're family. Even if everyone else turns their back, you can always count on each other – remember that."_

_To reinforce her point, the Queen took the hand of her son and daughter, and then folded them together. Lucille wrinkled her nose at her brother's sweaty hand in hers, whilst Logan made an affronted noise and snatched it back._

"_I'm not holding hands with my _sister_!"_

_The Queen cuffed him round the head. "Pay attention, you. I'm trying to teach you an important lesson. This is what comes from spoiling them... Were me and Rose ever this bad?"_

_With that, she turned on heel and headed off to where Sir Walter was waiting with important royal duties to discuss. They were probably going to go and do something Heroic, like saving villagers from balverines or rescuing kittens from trees. Although, last time it was something to do with taxes._

_Lucille looked up at her brother, stuck out her tongue – much to his indignation – and ran off before he could think up some clever reply that she didn't understand._

_..._

The entirety of Bowerstone's Old Quarter was consumed by flames. Civilians had unavoidably been killed as Lucille's forces stormed the city, slaughtering Logan's troops as they came. The deaths of the innocent citizens grieved her, but she would find a way to make it up to the people once she took her brother's throne. Then she could right all of his wrongs.

With the help of all the allies she and Walter had gathered, the unprepared soldiers of Bowerstone were outmatched. They held more military training and superior gear, but with the element of surprise and overwhelming numbers – plus Kalin's naval assistance – forcing her way into the city had been less trouble than expected.

Now they had breached the castle. They just had to take Logan, and it would all be over.

Lucille – decked out in a military suit to appear like the authoritative, dignified leader she aspired to be – sprinted down the castle corridor, Walter on her heels. The place was virtually deserted. All able-bodied men had been directed to deal with the coup, whilst the servants were cowering safely elsewhere.

"Be prepared for a fight, Walter! Logan won't go easily!" she yelled a warning back to her mentor. Her brother was tall and wiry, not the usual build of a warrior, but he was more than capable of holding his own. He also happened to be intelligent, and clearly cruel. She didn't put it past him to use dirty tactics.

"I'm not worried, Princess," Walter boomed, the constant voice of confidence. Just hearing him inspired her in a way the King never did. "The King he might be, but Logan's no match for a Hero. You'll snap him like a twig."

They closed in on the war room, where Logan undoubtedly was. Lucille drew her gun, readying it in her hands, whilst Walter clasped a sword. No matter what the King had waiting in there, they could take him.

"Think we should knock? Nah, let's give him a surprise," Walter said.

In unison, she and Walter booted the doors with their feet. The double doors swung open, and they lifted their weapons, ready for a fight.

Logan drew his sword, arching an eyebrow with that imperious air he seemed to excel at. "So, this is how it ends – the old fool, and the child who ran away. You've finally become the woman I wanted you to be."

Lucille faltered. She stared at him as he sheathed the sword again, regarding them expectantly. Walter didn't seem fazed by Logan's lack of resistance. "She's a lot more than that," he said, folding his arms. "And now she's ready to take your place."

"Perhaps the time has come for someone else to lead Albion."

"You were never a leader, just another tyrant!" Lucille snapped at him, irritated by his complacent attitude. Why wasn't he attacking them? Why was he just stood there like events were playing out exactly as he had hoped? She could never tell what Logan's game was. They were in the midst of a _coup_, and yet he was behaving as though they were here on his terms.

Logan shrugged, running a gloved hand over the map table as he approached. Sensibly, he stopped out of range of Walter's hands, so the older man couldn't throttle him. "Did it ever occur to you that I might have had good reason to be?"

"We're not interested in your reasons," replied Walter firmly.

The King rose up to his full height, not intimidated by the larger man. "Cower behind ignorance if you will, but my sister deserves to know the truth."

"Save it for the trial, Logan," said Walter. "You can beg for your life then."

Lucille couldn't meet her brother's eyes. Instead she stared at the map table, hardening her face into a mask so that he couldn't see her conflicted emotions. Walter dragged him away by the arm, to the dungeons to await trial. She knew what had to happen now, and part of her longed for it: the grim satisfaction of getting revenge and seeing justice done. But that didn't change the fact that he was the only family she had left – excluding Walter and Jasper, her adopted family – and she felt guilty both for wanting to kill him and for wanting to spare him.

A part of her still wanted to believe that the brother she had once admired and respected was still in there, behind the face of that autocrat. There had to be a reason that he would commit all these crimes, she couldn't accept that it was simply a lust for power.

She wanted to believe that nothing had changed from the days when she got into trouble and he would always defend her, when they played innocent tricks on each other and grudges were never held. The trouble was, everything had changed.

...


	2. The Weight of Judgement

**A/N: Thank you to those who have read and reviewed so far :)**

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Month One: The Weight of Judgement

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"You have the power over life and death, sister. Now choose."

Assembled around the new Queen, Lucille, were the people that had put her on the throne. And they were all baying for Logan's blood. The entire room clamoured for his execution – some of them were even shouting gruesome methods – but he just stood there proud and haughty, staring straight at her. It was as though he could just shut it all out. Maybe he had somehow learned not to care what others thought of him.

Lucille, however felt it like a pressure on her face, throat, back. Her allies were saying that justice must be done so that they could truly start afresh. It wasn't really justice they wanted though, it was revenge. And they weren't wrong for wanting it. Lucille had thought much about what she would do when finally given this opportunity. Usually Logan ended up on a rope, or with his head bent over a chopping block for an old-fashioned show of justice. But wild imaginings were different to reality, and she knew she couldn't order her brother's death.

She hated him. He had forced her to condemn innocents to their death in order to save her best friend – he'd tried to turn her some corrupt reflection of himself. He had kept her shut up in the castle where she could do little to help and only knew of the outside world from rumour and hearsay. He barely seemed to tolerate her presence anymore, like she was some useless weight cast onto his shoulders when their mother died. And there were all the crimes he had committed against the rest of the populace to consider – starvation, oppression and wanton cruelty. Heavens knew there were more than enough reasons to sanction his execution, but she couldn't do it.

"This is not the time for revenge," Lucille announced, in the authoritative tone she remembered her mother using. "If the Crawler is truly coming for Albion, then we need your help, Logan. You can add your forces to mine and stand with us, against the coming darkness."

"The Queen has made her decision," Walter boomed. "Logan's life will be spared."

The crowd howled its disapproval like baited balverines, and Lucille could feel the hard stares of her allies – save perhaps Page and Walter – burning a hole in her defences, but she focused instead on her brother. In those few words she had spoken, the years that had accumulated in shadows under his eyes and lines round his mouth and forehead melted away, and he gave her that warm gaze that she remembered from the distant past. It was almost as though, somewhere in that hard shell, he still loved her.

Lucille got to her feet, setting her mouth in a hard line. She would leave this chamber and the hundred angry eyes, and actually start to do the good work she had been fighting for in the first place. The guards would place Logan under house arrest for now, until they could be truly sure he wasn't being duplicitous. There was always a chance he might assassinate her in her sleep.

Logan caught her arm as she passed, and Lucille unwillingly flinched. She faced him, noticing that his face still wore that softer expression she had glimpsed a few moments earlier. It made him look so different. Not a gaunt, cruel despot; but her big brother, the one who had looked out for her, even when he pretended he wasn't doing anything of the sort.

"I know you will never forgive me for the things I have done. You told me so once, remember?" said Logan, barely audible over the crowd.

"Of course I do."

"But what matters now is that we defend our land. The castle is yours, and so is the throne." He almost smiled. "I'm glad to be rid of them."

That was the most civil conversation they had had in recent history. Lucille couldn't manage anything more than a curt nod so she swiftly exited the room, the sounds of the crowd and Walter's instructions following her until she was shut safely in her own chambers. They were angry now, but she could soon start to repair Albion's people and its soul. Now that she was Queen, it was within her power to fix it all.

...


	3. The Weight of Resentment

Month Two: The Weight of Resentment

...

Today, Logan was skulking in the war room. He hardly liked to consider it 'skulking', but that was exactly what he was currently doing, and had been doing for the past month. Technically, he wasn't supposed to be in the war room at all, or near the treasury. Or anywhere with windows that would allow him to make a break for it.

As though there was anywhere he could go if he did escape. In his rule, he had successfully alienated all the people in his kingdom. Well, except for Reaver, but he'd be damned before he went crawling to that amoral deviant, who would probably just shoot Logan in the face now that he was no longer wealthy and powerful.

He admired the intricate map table at the centre of the room, and tried to suppress the memory of that night when the blind seer, Theresa, had visited him. He had scarcely had time to recover from his trip to Aurora, and then she was telling him that the darkness that had almost killed him was coming. At that moment, he could have sworn that a vile black taint had spread across the map, inching towards him.

Logan shuddered. It wasn't his responsibility anymore. Lucille had deposed him, and now the weight of the world could be hers to bear.

That wasn't true. No matter what people said about him, and how he had imprisoned his innocent sister for years, he knew he couldn't leave her to this. Logan had spent years trying to outfit an army capable of standing against the Crawler. He had run the economy and the people into the ground in his attempts to get money. But he didn't regret it, not really. He hadn't been given a choice. The people could love him, or they could die – and he didn't put much value on a temporary happiness.

Lucille would learn this before long. He had already seen her handing out money to her allies as though it were limitless. _He _had worked tirelessly to raise that money, and the people hated him for it. Logan wanted her to succeed – to maintain both the love of the populace and to ensure their safety – but it was an impossibility. It wouldn't take long before Lucille realised that she would have to rein in her generosity.

Logan wandered down the corridor from the war room, sparing a glance towards the portraits of his formidable mother and doting father. His father had been a scholarly type, and he couldn't help wonder how the man had ever caught their mother's attention. She stood tall, sword in one hand and rifle in the other, her faithful dog at her feet.

How much simpler it would have been if their mother were here. She could have convinced Lucille far more effectively to do what was necessary. Instead, the task was his. He'd been a poor surrogate parent over the years and he sincerely doubted that she'd listen to his advice, for what it was worth.

Briefly Logan contemplated heading for the library, but he already knew that was a waste of time. He must have searched every dusty old tome in the place, but there were no references whatsoever to the Crawler, nor to any similar threat facing Albion in the past. Instead, he decided he would practise his skills with a sword, something he hadn't done for a while. There had never been much cause to, given that he had spent most days shut in the castle, thinking up new ways to make everyone hate him.

The guards cast him suspicious glances as he strode past them. Unlike during his days as King, when they cowered as though he might order a beheading for them blinking inappropriately or something, they just surveyed him with mistrust and dislike now. He was a deposed King, they didn't have to pretend loyalty anymore and they didn't want him harming their blessed Queen. Logan vaguely remembered the days when the people had liked him too. He hadn't been as open and friendly as his sister but he had been the intelligent, noble Prince and the people had admired them both as their mother's children.

"Hey! That's not fair; you can't use magic in a sword fight!"

He recognised that voice, it was one of Major Swift's men, one who Logan distinctly remembered glaring pure spite at him during his hearing. The door to the sparring room was ajar, and Logan watched as his sister backed the blonde soldier into a corner with the tip of her longsword. Her other hand was pulsing as though she was channelling lightning into it.

"Oh, really?" she scoffed, her playful voice sounding odd to Logan these days. He hadn't heard her speak like that for years. "So what about that dagger you've got strapped to your leg? I don't call that fair."

"Ah, that's different – you could use a dagger too if you like. I can't wreck stuff with my mind."

She grinned. "I don't know about that, things always seem to go awry when you're around."

"Like what?"

"Uh, like your terrible attempts to seduce Page, that's what."

Finn mock-scowled at her. "There aren't any 'attempts'. I just happen to be a friendly, charming fellow. It's not my fault if you're confusing that with seduction."

"Don't get all embarrassed. You couldn't seduce Page, even if you tried." Lucille laughed, lowering her sword and backing off. "She'd make mincemeat of you."

Finn slid his sword back into its scabbard, the spar appearing to be at an end with the Hero winning again. "I swear you were nicer when I met you, and if I remember, you were disembowelling hollow men at the time."

"Hollow men don't have bowels."

Logan stood in the shadow of the door, listening out of sight. The light-hearted jokes reminded him of the days before either of them had become so bogged down by the world and its problems. He remembered when their mother was responsible for all that, and his main concern was making sure Lucille didn't go wandering off to Bower Lake when she got into an adventurous mood. He looked after her better when he was her brother than when he was her guardian. It was good to hear her laugh like that again; he could almost forget that she hated him.

The door swung open.

He had been so wrapped up in his memories that he had forgotten that their practice fight had finished. Logan did what he did best – he drew himself up to his full height, hardened his jaw and looked at the world with the haughty self-confidence that had served him well in his most ruthless decisions.

"I remember the last time I spied on you through a door, Logan," Lucille told him coldly, fists clenched. "It didn't end well."

"What do you want?" Ben Finn demanded, adopting the expression of loathing that he had worn at the hearing. Logan was so used to people looking at him like that, it hardly mattered anymore.

"I was simply going to practice, I hadn't realised the room was occupied."

"You were going to spar by yourself?" Lucille replied, brow arched. It was remarkable how similar to him she seemed when she was angry. He imagined that if he mentioned such a thing to her, she would forget the pardon and execute him right there and then.

"Yes, I would have thought it's the only way I will be able to refine my skills before Albion is attacked. Unless of course, I make a dash for the exit and you set the guards on me."

His sister ignored this, and instead lifted her sword, swinging it through the air menacingly. "Well then, I had better see what you're capable of. Besides the murder and slavery of innocents, that is."

Logan raised his eyebrows. He couldn't help but wonder if this was going to turn into an execution after all. It had surprised him beyond belief when she had spared him at the hearing, even though he knew she still hated him. Lucille looked like an image of their indomitable mother, with her sword clasped in hand and the fire in her eyes. Maybe she had become stronger and harder after all.

"You can go, Ben," she instructed, without looking at her friend.

The soldier hesitated, still glowering at Logan. He also ignored Finn, his sword now pointed towards his adversary.

Lucille glanced at him. "Ben, it's fine, really. Go."

Safe in the knowledge that the Hero wasn't likely to be offed by her bitter brother, Ben Finn exited the room. The siblings were left to face off against one another.

Logan adopted the stance of a true military man, whilst Lucille simply raised her sword like any angry commoner would. Her eyes narrowed, and he could see that she was going to use this opportunity to have some revenge. It was too late for him to try and bow out now, besides, he wanted to see firsthand the skills that were so revered.

Lucille lunged at him, and he managed to block the blade that was swinging down towards his face. She was even stronger than she looked. Logan laid his free hand against the flat of his blade and pushed her back, causing Lucille to withdraw by a few steps.

She swung her blade in an arc towards his feet, and Logan leapt out of the way an instant before his legs were cut off at the ankle. As he composed himself, Lucille came in for a more determined attack, slicing at him with quick, furious strikes that gave him barely enough time to block. He wasn't able to parry and had yet to attack her himself. Lucille was as tall as him, broader and more muscular – in the past several years, he had been wrapped up in administrative tasks whilst she trained with Walter and traversed Albion. He was out of practice, but hardly unskilled. He had survived the Crawler – albeit barely – when all others had perished.

Logan lifted his sword to block her and as she struck at the metal, he managed to hook his foot around her ankle and yank it towards him. Lucille yelped in shock, crashing onto her back. Her head cracked into the hard floor and she rubbed the impact spot, blinking in surprise. As she gathered her wits, Lucille scowled at him and Logan allowed himself a small, satisfied smile. She still had a lot to learn. She was overconfident, and didn't give much thought to tactics.

The smile slipped from Logan's face as Lucille sprang from the ground, smacking him feet-first in the chest. He staggered backwards, slamming into the wall and knocking over a weapons stand. His immaculate hair hung about his face, his uniform dishevelled, and it was his turn to look at her agog.

"Do you still think I'm just an idiotic child, getting in your way?" she asked, running her blade over the palm of her hand as he righted himself.

"I was trying to protect you," he replied, out of breath, "from what I knew was coming. You wouldn't have understood – not what I feared nor why I took extreme measures to stop it."

"And who was going to protect me from _you_?"

Flames coiled themselves around Lucille's fist, expanding until the room seemed to glow. She stared at him coldly, and Logan knew just before she did, that she was going to throw that at him. He flung himself sideways as she lobbed the fireball in his direction. It struck the wall, scorching the stone.

"I realised," he began to explain, "that I couldn't shelter you from the truth. The more I did so, the more you resented me and became a pawn the insurgents could use. It was easy to be full of self-righteous conviction when you had no responsibilities, so I wanted to make you understand."

"Understand how to be a tyrant?"

"Understand that hard decisions come with responsibility," Logan replied wearily. "I wanted to make you stronger, so that you would be prepared for this. The people won't survive unless you _make_ them survive, sister."

"You have no right to call me that," she spat, throwing down her sword and storming from the room.

Logan stood, dishevelled from the physical fight and drained by the verbal one, and stared at the door. He couldn't help but think that somewhere along the lines, it had all gone very wrong.

...


	4. The Weight of Responsibility

**A/N: Thank you very much to those who are reading and enjoying this :)**

...

Month Three: The Weight of Responsibility

...

A very small pile of gold. That was what the treasury currently held. Lucille had flipped through Hobson's immaculately-kept ledger, and noticed one gaping problem – by his estimations, they should have made at least half a million gold each month so far. What the treasury actually contained was almost five hundred thousand, and it was already three months into her reign. This was not their goal, wasn't even close.

Lucille had been down every evening for the past fortnight, staring at the paltry sum. She knew what the problem was – she was agreeing to proposals that would help her people in the short term, and drain her funds. However, to help her people in the long run, she required money. A lot of it.

Royal duties kept her occupied and that offered little time to raid wealthy tombs or whatever she used to do in those months of freedom. The time she spent raising an army was perhaps the best she had ever spent. She had truly experienced how her mother must have lived, roaming the land, righting wrongs and battling the forces of evil. Battling evil had always sounded so exciting when her mother did it – cutting down swathes of Spire soldiers for the freedoms of the people. Fighting her own forces of darkness hadn't felt marvellous or exhilarating at all. They had almost cost her Walter, and it made her tremble to think of the Crawler's influence spreading to Albion.

What she really missed were her parents. Lucille hadn't known her father long, but she was sure that if he had still been alive, he would have held her tight and told her that she could do it – she could save the whole bloody world. Perhaps then he would tell her a story. She smiled at the thought. Her mother probably wouldn't have been for the cuddling, but she would have told Lucille exactly what to do, and her presence alone would have imbued the new Queen with confidence and surety.

At least she had Walter, and for that she was thankful. There was Jasper too, though he didn't usually give her more advice than telling her what boots went with what jacket. Walter was her mentor, father and friend. He was everything that she had needed growing up, and she was certain he would support her no matter what her choices. But that didn't mean he would approve of them.

Footsteps behind her revealed that Hobson had entered, no doubt to survey her with a beady eye and tell her in pointed tones that she was oh so generous a leader, and how the world had never before bathed in the light of one so magnanimous. Sometimes she wanted to slap him.

"Your majesty, have you been here all night?"

"No." Just for the last seven hours.

"I've brought your agenda for today."

He held out a piece of paper with a neatly composed list, the top of which read that she was to decide on child support finances today. Lucille's stomach contracted. She had already told herself that she was going to be firm today. She had honoured all promises so far and bowed to the desires of her subjects, but she had to make a few cutbacks here and there. Logan had already gotten rid of benefits, so abolishing them would not gain her any money. Short of reneging on her promised tax rate for the year, her only course of action would be... what?

Lucille rubbed her forehead. How could she get more money without extorting the people? She had already sent Ben on some foolish trip with some other men to loot treasures from the various caves and tombs in Albion, but that was a costly venture itself. She had never been raised to be the ruler – she was a spare heir. Logan and his spawn were supposed to rule. Lucille would have been a Hero.

"If I may be so bold, Your Majesty, I have a suggestion about the issue of child benefit," Hobson volunteered.

She nodded. It couldn't be any more hopeless than her own ideas.

"Well, of course you know that your brother abolished child benefits during his rule. Reinstating these would be rather costly, and as you can see, the treasury cannot really afford to be giving handouts to every Tom, Dick and Harry."

"What's your point?" Lucille asked, pinching the bridge of her nose.

"I was thinking, Your Majesty, that instead of child benefits, perhaps you should impose a child fine. That way each family would pay a set amount for the children in their household, and you would make a tidy sum in a short amount of time."

Lucille considered him. "You want me to tax people for their children?"

Hobson began giving some reason for his suggestion, but she ignored him, looking instead at the meagre pile of gold in her treasury. She would be lucky to save a tenth of her people with that pittance, and she still had yet to fulfil all her promises. With annoying irony, the only promise that would not have cost her was the one she made to Swift – but considering the poor man was dead, that promise was now void anyway.

Lucille had already decided she would need to be stricter in some areas to make up for her generosity elsewhere. The people of the Old Quarter couldn't resent her – she was in the middle of having their district repaired. The people in general couldn't fault her – she had lowered their taxes to a tiny portion of what they were. She had squandered most of the money in the treasury on worthy ventures, and now she needed to refill it. Soon. The question was – was she prepared to go one step further than her brother, and actually _tax_ people for their children?

In light of her other decisions, she decided that this was only a small thing. The people could handle it. It balanced out their low taxes, and the childless people could help support the families. Elderly were still receiving pensions, so they could share the burden out a little.

"Hobson, I'll go with your suggestion."

"Truly, Your Majesty? Oh, I feel so proud!"

Lucille stared at the weird little man, and wondered if he had worked for Logan. How could anyone be so flippant about a choice that would affect many lives? Her brother had seemed just the same: ordering executions, extorting the people, selling them into slavery and not seeming to care about his actions. Had he done it all to fill the treasury?

She knew one way to gather more money, but she refused to do it. She would _never _sink to her brother's level and work with Reaver. There had to be a way to improve life for Albion without taking away its future. Her mother would have found a way.

Since the fight in the weapons room a few weeks ago, Lucille hadn't encountered her brother. He seemed to be avoiding her, and she was glad for it. The last thing she wanted to see was his smug face, telling her she would be just like him. Although, he hadn't looked very smug the last time she saw him. Proud, of course. Remorseless, always. But smug? No, he seemed to be trying to convince her of his integrity.

She failed to see the integrity in forcing your sister to murder innocent protestors. That had nothing to do with needing money and everything to do with cruelty. Logan had claimed that he had kept her at a distance, trapped in the castle because he wanted to keep her safe and ignorant. She could appreciate the sentiment, if it was true. It probably was easier to make horrible decisions if you didn't have to look your family in the eye and see that they hate you. And considering how little she could have done – before realising her Hero status – to prepare against the Crawler, she understood that he might want to keep the information from her.

What she couldn't understand – and never accept – was his attempt to 'make her appreciate the importance of hard decisions'. Had he honestly thought that making her a murderer would force her to accept his actions? That she would be _enlightened _and follow the same path as him?

Lucille wondered what had happened to her brother. Had the pressure of leadership cracked his senses? He had stooped so low to gain money. It hadn't been one or two harsh decisions; it had been blow after blow against the people under his protection – their mother's people. She hadn't saved them from Lucien Fairfax just to lose them to her son's callousness.

Rubbing her eyes with the back of her hands, Lucille contemplated how much she would adore lolling in her bed, like she used to when she was just the Princess. Starting her day at noon was a thing of the past, she couldn't afford to lose time through laziness. Failing a nap, she would've loved to go outside and just wander into the wilderness, dispatching a few hobbes or hollow men here and there. That too was from times past. Lucille was needed for the various tiresome and draining duties that were expected of a Queen.

...

Lucille should have expected this, really.

Not a fortnight after she had passed the legislation introducing child fines, she was sitting in her study reading through a proposal to rework Bowerstone Industrial's plumbing system. It was currently pumping less-than-sanitary water to the slums there. It would be a costly job, but it seemed necessary. She could hardly let her people die from diseased water when other citizens were given access to a clean supply. But she also couldn't afford to fix every house's plumbing – so perhaps if she just had a pump built in the middle of each street for the time being? Once the threat of the Crawler had passed, she would be able to improve standards for them, but until then they would have to manage. If they survived under Logan's harsher regimes, they would cope with queuing for shared water.

A break was in order. She had been wading through proposals – and a few complaints about the child fine – for days now. The upside was that with Hobson's speedy collection of fines, the treasury was beginning to look a little healthier. Perhaps she ought to introduce higher fines for crimes. It would be cheaper than imprisonment.

Lucille pushed herself from her hard-backed seat and settled on the rug by the hearth. The servants had stoked the fire not long ago, and its warmth on her skin was comforting. It reminded her of something – sitting by the fire like this – but she couldn't recall what.

Sir Ponclebottom – her absurdly named border collie – rested his head in her lap, those dark, doleful eyes gazing up at her. The expression reminded her oddly of the look on her brother's face when she'd spared him at the hearing. Lucille pushed the thought from her head and rubbed Sir's ears. She had given her loyal companion his name a few years ago, at Elliot's suggestion. He had said that there wasn't a chance in Albion that she would seriously name her dog that, but she did it anyway. She tended to just call him 'Sir' though – shouting 'Sir Ponclebottom' in the middle of crowded streets would have done nothing to nurture her image as a serious leader.

Lucille closed her eyes, savouring the warmth of another being near her. With Sir, she was loved unconditionally. She didn't have to worry about what he thought of her decisions, what he might say further down the line if she chose harshly when desperate. He wouldn't look at her and wonder if she was turning into her brother, when what she wanted was to be like her mother. A true Hero.

Lost in thought, Lucille didn't notice as the time slipped by. As the sun dipped below the horizon and the light from the fire became the only illumination in the room, she heard the sound of someone storming angrily down the corridor outside. For an absurd moment, she thought it was Logan, and she straightened up in order to receive her late visitor with regal poise.

To her surprise, the intruder was her old friend Elliot. This was the second time she had been shocked by his appearance – the first being when she rescued him for his fiancé. He looked furious.

"Do you know what you've done?" he asked.

Lucille waved at the concerned guard to leave them in peace.

As the door shut behind Elliot, she asked: "What are you talking about?"

"Fining people for their children! Have you any idea the effect that's having in the Industrial district?"

She sighed and folded her arms. Somehow, she had completely forgotten that Elliot and his fiancé ran the orphanage and homeless shelter there. "I know it seems harsh, but you know that the treasury must be filled. I've already lowered taxes and given Industrial a school, thereby losing the revenue from the factories of Reaver Industries. Make no mistake, I don't regret closing those factories, but I must make up for the losses in income."

"You don't understand," Elliot protested, wringing his hands. "The shelter's overflowing with children now. The families there have so many kids, and they can't afford to pay for them. They've been selling them into work instead of sending them to school, just to make ends meet. Or they abandon them at the shelter because they can't afford to keep them."

"I'm sorry," she replied firmly. "The fine has to stay. It's either that or raise the taxes instead, and that will affect more people than just the families."

Elliot gaped at her, as though he had expected a different outcome to his visit. He looked at her as though she were a stranger. "I remember when you talked about wanting to help people. About stopping what Logan was doing to them."

"I _am _trying to help them, Elliot," she argued. "You think I like having to take a hard stance when I know people are desperate and are looking to me for help? I can't just give handouts to everyone who wants them, otherwise this time next year we'll all be dead."

Lucille turned away from him and faced the fire instead. She closed her eyes, trying to recapture the soothing nostalgia that its presence had given her before he arrived, but the moment had passed. Sir whined, licking Elliot's hand. Poor dog didn't understand why his mistress was arguing with her friend. He petted the collie's head dejectedly.

"Logan did far worse to the people of Albion, and they've managed this far," she said slowly, considering her words. "I'll try and be as kind to them as the circumstances allow... but it's most important that they are still alive next year. They can cope if I have to put a little pressure on them, because once we no longer have to fear the Crawler, I can help them as much as they want. I can build schools, shelters, lower taxes and rents. I just can't do those things yet."

"So that's your answer?" he whispered, voice trembling. "The poor have always been poor, so they can deal with it a little longer?"

Lucille faced him. "You know that's not what I mean."

"The problem is – you've never really understood their situation. You've always been sympathetic, but you don't understand it because you've never lived it. Things might have been tough living with your brother, but at least you never went hungry. You never had to work thirteen hour shifts at the age of nine, just to survive. You don't understand what you're doing to them."

"And you don't understand what I'm doing _for _them!" she yelled, losing all semblance of restraint. "_You _have never felt the Crawler in your head, leeching everything out of you! _You _have never been trapped under the ground with no way out, watching as your friend loses his sanity – nearly losing his _life_! _You_ can't possibly understand the devastation that thing will cause when it comes to Albion and we're not prepared! Logan might have been a tyrant, but he understood this and that's why he hurt them. I've tried to be generous and charitable... but it isn't enough. Some measures _have _to be introduced to compensate."

"So that's it then?" Elliot said quietly. His face seemed older and harder. He was a long way from the fresh-faced boy who had held her hand, and teased her, and told her they were going to change the world together. But she wasn't that girl anymore either.

"That's it," she said heavily. "I'm not changing my word."

He looked as though he wanted to say more, but bit his tongue and gave a curt, awkward bow. As Elliot left the room – walking down the hall much quieter than when he had arrived – Lucille sank onto the rug by the fire. The energy had left her. She felt like laughing hysterically. Or crying. Perhaps both. Of all people, she had never expected to argue viciously with Elliot, her childhood friend.

Lucille couldn't help but wonder – if she followed the course that her mind was calling rational and her conscience was calling despicable – how many of her friends would she alienate? Would she become like her brother: so unrecognisable that even those she had called family would flee into nearby rooms if they saw her coming down a corridor? Would people whisper plots behind her back?

She didn't want to do this alone. It had been her hope that she could choose a middle road – adhere to her promises, but force a few harsh laws in order to compensate. However, even that seemed to result in friction with the people. She didn't know what to do.

Looking at the fire, Lucille recalled now the memory it had teased her with. It was the only one she had of her family all together; her mother had just returned from an adventure with Walter, and was entertaining her children with a tale of her exploits as they sat in front of the fire. Her father had his arms around his children, and Lucille kept hiding her face in his jacket at the thought of hollow men bursting up from the ground and trying to drag her off. After the story had ended, Lucille had remained sitting by the fire, frightened by the tale. Logan had called her a little baby, but he had sat with her until she fell asleep, her head nestled against his shoulder.

...


	5. The Weight of History

Month Four: The Weight of History

...

"This is my Albion, and its people will do as I say, or they will die."

Logan stared at his sister, her words settling on him uncomfortably. She stared at the map table, its carefully correct contours depicting the landscape of Albion. He remembered looking at it with the same expression on his face, imagining the spread of the Crawler's taint, wondering if there was a corner of the land where his name wasn't spoken with venom and spite. He remembered saying words all too similar to those that had just left Lucille's mouth.

Logan – starved for information because the population of the castle avoided him like a cankerous sore – had sought out the rebel leader Page. He knew she had arrived to see his sister and raise some concerns she was having about Lucille's sudden change in tax policy. In the last month, despite what had been originally promised, the Queen had raised the taxes on the people – further than he had done – as well as increasing rents, inflating the price of goods, trade, and in fact almost anything she could raise the cost of. She had then agreed to Kalin's proposal to rebuild Aurora. Her approach was heavy-handed and lopsided.

Ironically, despite spearheading the movement to depose him, Logan remembered that Page had also been the only one who advocated pardoning him and he rather hoped that she could provide an insight into his sister's actions. Besides, Walter was out recruiting and Logan didn't want to explain himself to Kalin of all people, so only Page could oblige him, if willing.

He needn't have bothered, as Lucille had spied them talking about her and agreed to an audience with Page, which appeared to grow quite heated and resulted in the revolutionary stalking from the castle, uttering words best left unsaid. Shortly afterwards, his sister had called for his presence.

"Not long after I met Theresa," Lucille began, staring at the map, "she showed me a glimpse of you in this very room, and that's what you said: they will do as I say, or they will die."

Lucille met his eyes, and he wondered where she was going with this.

"When I first heard you say that, I was horrified and it stuck in my mind. You sounded evil, and selfish, and..."

"Tyrannical?"

She nodded. "I didn't understand how you could be so insensitive towards the people – how you couldn't care about their problems. But the longer I spend as Queen, the more I understand. The treasury is filling up – slowly – but it's a start. I'm trying to keep my word to my allies and improve standards in Albion, but I realise that I've got to be firm, even if the very people opposing me are the ones who would have supported me."

"You're referring to Page."

"You heard the... quarrel, then?" Lucille asked, her lips curving upwards in an expression that was more grimace than smile.

"She won't be the only one to disagree with your methods, Lucille."

"She isn't." The Queen laughed sourly. "Elliot was here a month ago, as good as calling me a dictator. He said that I didn't understand what it was like for the poverty-stricken. Page's words were surprisingly similar – it makes me wonder if they've been whispering behind my back."

Logan wondered why she was telling him all this. Did she feel so suspicious of her friends that the one person she was confiding in was the one she hated? The one whose methods she had been denouncing as evil not so long ago? He wondered if he should do something to comfort her, but he didn't want to unintentionally provoke another argument. It wasn't as though he could pick up the threads of their relationship from years ago.

"They say I don't understand, but they're the ones who are ignorant," Lucille said, her brows pinched, hands clenched around the edge of the table. "I know what the Crawler is like, because_ I_ faced it. Walter hasn't seemed quite the same since we went to Aurora, and when I remember how he looked when it took him... twisted and corrupted..."

She broke off, shivering. Logan stood rooted to the spot. Comforting another had long since become an alien concept, and it seemed odd for him to do so. He didn't know how to help.

"This is why I wanted to keep you from the truth," Logan told her, as gently as he could. "No one should have to face the darkness, least of all... I thought I could preserve a piece of our life before I even knew of the Crawler's existence. Foolish, really."

Lucille circled the table, approaching him. She stopped a foot away, looking right into his eyes. There weren't many people as tall as him, but she had been blessed with their mother's stature. He had forgotten that whilst he had been distant to the people, his sister had been beloved by most. She probably didn't feel as uncomfortable about expressing herself to him as he did to her.

"I understand some of it. But not why you made me choose. You said it was to wake me up to the reality of rule. To this," she said, gesturing towards the map. "I've always thought it was because you hated me."

Logan frowned. He wasn't surprised that her reasoning would reach that conclusion, but it didn't wound him any less. He never regretted the choices he'd made as King, but he regretted the ones he'd made as a brother – as the only family Lucille had after their parents died.

Without over-thinking it any longer, Logan grasped his sibling by the wrists and pulled her towards him. He wrapped his arms around her, trying to make the action come naturally. Lucille froze, seemingly torn between throwing him off and returning the hug.

To Logan's relief, he felt the comforting pressure as her arms folded around him. It had been a long time since he had felt close to another person, least of all his family. He felt Lucille tremble slightly, and wondered if she was crying. He held her more tightly, trying to push those years of neglect away from them.

"I never hated you," he whispered. "I was just angry. At you, and myself. You could be the princess, the one people respected and adored, but I was the one who had to make the decisions that would judge the fate of the nation. You were a child, ignorant of the danger, and I kept you that way."

Lucille pulled away, wiping her face. "I don't want to rule the same way as you did, but every day it gets harder."

She wandered over to a chair, flopping down on it in a very unladylike manner. His sister had always been lacking in poise. She had made up for it with boisterousness and good humour, but those things seemed missing now. Logan seated himself across from her.

"Did you start off like this?" Lucille asked him, curiously. "Wondering if you were being too hard and making the wrong decisions?"

"No." It was mostly true, he had never been quite as conflicted as Lucille. He had been disappointed that there wasn't an easier way, but he had never actually expected there to be one. Logan sighed. Her false hopes had been down to him and he felt obligated to explain to her, no matter how much she might hate him for hearing it. He had kept her in the dark for too long.

"I believed that I was doing the right thing, because... Do you remember when we were children, the stories we were told about our mother?"

Lucille's face softened into a nostalgic smile. "Walter used to tell us about her fight against Lucien Fairfax – gaining the support of the people, joining with the other Heroes and stopping Fairfax from using the Spire to destroy everything. Hmm, it all makes me wish that mother was still here. She'd know what to do."

"After you left the castle, you must have heard stories about her from the people too," Logan prompted carefully.

"Well... yes, of course. Usually it was just about how if the old Queen was here, she'd knock your block off."

His lips curved into a small smile. That was probably one of the kinder things that people said about him on the street. Lucille grinned, almost like old times, before chewing on her lip as she recalled another detail.

"Sometimes though, they just said things about how cruelty runs in the blood. And about how power can corrupt even good people. They said that she wasn't always such a good Queen and that early in her rule, she had a lot of trouble from the people. I'd never heard about that before. I only knew about the years she ruled in peace, and helped people."

"As you know, before she died, mother tutored me frequently on how to rule in her place when my time came. She told that the most important thing to remember was to trust my instincts, not to question my judgement and also," he gave Lucille a wry smile, "to look after my little sister properly. No bickering."

Lucille grinned. "That sounds like her."

The irony of his mother's instructions was not lost on him. She had always told them not to argue, and what had happened – brother and sister had turned against each other, with one deposing the other, and ruling on the fate of his life.

Now it was time to word things delicately. "Other than the guidance that you can imagine she gave me, mother also told me about some of her more difficult experiences and how she coped. She believed that the knowledge would help me in similar situations."

The jovial expression faded, and Logan's sister regarded him with mild suspicion now.

He continued. "When our mother came to the throne, many people welcomed it. She had defeated the monster who had forced their families into slavery or worse, and had helped various people as she did so. However, there were some people who were less enthusiastic to have a former street urchin leading Albion. They believed a member of the nobility – someone born and bred to take charge of the masses – would be more appropriate. This lead to a coup."

"I know about the civil war," Lucille told him. "Walter said that some of the nobility led armed forces into the castle, and it ended up being half-destroyed in the fighting. The leaders were caught, but mum ruled that they would simply be imprisoned. Their lands would be forfeited to the Crown and given to the people of Albion. It was a popular move that showed her mercy and her dedication to the country."

"Mother's version differed somewhat to Walter's. She formally imprisoned the ringleaders and gave their wealth to the people. Once she'd done this though, she assassinated them to ensure that they didn't cause any more trouble and covered up their deaths. That way, she was able to maintain her image and avoid further conflicts. As we know, she spent the rest of her rule in mostly peace."

Lucille stared at him, dumfounded. He waited in silence for her to speak. All her life, his sister – and for most of his childhood, Logan too – had been told of the virtues of the late Queen. Walter had told them of her compassion, honour and wisdom. The lessons she had actually given Logan had always suggested that she favoured pragmatism and acting based on what she felt was best, not what others thought was right.

When she told him about her experience in the Spire, Logan had never seen his mother look so vulnerable. As she recounted the hard decisions she made in order to stay alive, and achieve her goal of freeing the Hero of Will, Logan had been shocked. But then he saw the strength and resolution on her face as she finished her tale. She explained that the Spire had been the most horrifying experience of her life – second only to Fairfax's murder of her sister – but it had also led her to the realisation that in a cruel world, one can't afford to fight honourably. The Queen told him that in times of peace, a good monarch would satisfy the needs and wants of the people; but in times of war, a good leader would ensure survival by any means necessary. She had sacrificed others in order to preserve herself and the Hero of Will, and by doing so, they had gone on to save the entirety of Albion. Good was subjective, as was evil. Logan had never passed these lessons on to Lucille as he should have. Instead, he kept the truth from her in the vain hope that it would somehow protect her.

Lucille swallowed, and looked at him questioningly. "What are you telling me? That mother would approve of what you did?"

"Yes, because she is the one who taught me that in order to do what's right, one can't always do what's good. I did what was necessary."

"I can't believe that she would tell you something like that," she protested. "Mother was a good person!"

"She was," he replied. Lucille's judgement of course meant that he was automatically a bad person. "But she was also a practical one. Mother is also the one who first introduced me to Reaver."

Lucille shot to her feet. "Now I know that you're lying! She told us herself that she hated Reaver, that he was a soulless, depraved monster. She would _never_ want us to work with him."

"Mother hated Reaver, but she also knew that he was useful," Logan explained, realising that he was losing her. "He had contacts, and no morals. Lucien Fairfax's actions had devastated the land, and mother needed to fix it..."

His sister shook her head, glaring at him.

"... So she asked Reaver to get her money. She didn't ask the particulars of it – the more distanced she was from his schemes the better – but he did as she asked, and in return she helped found his industrial empire. I don't think she ever foresaw how far it would go."

"Why are you telling me this?" Lucille demanded. The friendliness she had worn briefly was gone again, buried under all those negative feelings she still harboured towards her brother. Logan regretted her feelings, but she had to be told. She was shooting herself in the foot by trying to be generous _and _practical at the same time. Telling her about their mother's actions would help her understand reality. It was the first sensible thing he had done regarding his sister.

"So that you know that even great rulers must make difficult decisions in order to succeed."

Lucille didn't say another word. She simply turned and walked from the room, closing the door silently behind her. Logan glanced at the map table. It hadn't been kind, but it was the right thing to do. Their mother would be glad.

...


	6. The Weight of Expense

**A/N: Thank you very much to those who are enjoying this so far, and have reviewed. It really inspires me! A special thanks to madcola for the lovely PM :)**

...

Month Five: The Weight of Expense

...

The Queen gazed down the corridor with a grim yet satisfied smile. The wall hangings, paintings, curtains, were all prised free. She had collected everything of value – and many useless items – from the east wing of the castle and assembled them in an empty room. Hobson would estimate the value of each item before they were auctioned off to raise money for the army.

The main body of her troops were outfitted and equipped. She needed more soldiers though, and that meant tempting wages – or conscription. They needed to be trained up. Medical facilities had to be improved. Food had to be stocked up in case of the worst, and outposts had to be built in order to have an early warning system. She was also directing a small amount of her funds towards finding people with magical potential that she could see trained. The mercenary Saker had shown proficiency with fire spells, and she was convinced that Heroes were not the only individuals who could do significant damage against the Crawler's minions.

Of course, Lucille was still shy of the funds to run these ideas. The taxes and such were helping significantly, but she had yet to meet half of the required sum. Her latest session spent staring at the mostly-empty-treasury had given her an inspired thought.

Hobson had suggested speaking to interior designers – or something equally ridiculous – about redesigning the castle's image. This was a waste of money, but it had led her to the thought that the wealth of the castle was immense, and stripping it down to its essentials would surely help raise money. Lucille also decided to force the nobility to follow in her footsteps once her success was proven. It would no doubt win her a few enemies, but it would relieve pressure from the poorer Albionites, who had so far shouldered most of the expense from her policies. The nobility could afford to lose a few expensive items if it ensured everyone's safety.

Lucille laughed as she dropped some heavy brocade curtains onto a pile of fabrics. Sir bounded in with a candlestick in his jaws and contributed it. She ruffled the fur on his head in praise, figuring a little dog saliva wouldn't hurt its base value too much – not if no one knew about it.

She darted off to collect that portrait of a snooty old man that had been hanging on the wall since she was a child. She didn't know half the people on these paintings – her parents' families hadn't been wealthy enough to afford portraits – so they must have just bought these to decorate the walls. No great loss. She'd always felt like the snooty old man had been sneering at her when she traipsed inside covered in mud.

"I don't think I've seen you laugh like this in a while," said Page, hoisting a fancy chair into one arm and a rolled up Auroran rug into the other.

"Not since Ben last made eyes at you, I think," Lucille returned, embracing the light-heartedness that had taken her.

Page cocked an eyebrow at her. "I'm serious. I wouldn't have thought you'd be so happy about gutting your fancy castle."

The Queen shrugged. "Ah, who needs this stuff anyway?" She held up the portrait she had just removed. "I don't want this fellow giving me the stink-eye anyway!"

"'The stink-eye'?" Page smirked. "You've been spending too much time around the Resistance, coming out with things like that. What would the nobility think, I wonder?"

"They'll be more concerned about their expensive hoards and how I'm going to use them to raise money for the treasury, than my vocabulary, I'm sure. If it comes to the worst, I'll just blame my uncouth manners on Ben and Sabine."

"Smart move."

The two women dumped their loads in the room, just as Hobson arrived to begin his accounting. They left him to do his work in peace, although Lucille had a guard posted at the door to keep an eye on him. Hobson was a fine accountant and assistant, but knowing his dubious morality, she wouldn't put it past him to pocket a few items to keep them safe from the exodus she was holding. The man was talented, but he didn't hold a candle to Jasper. Speaking of Jasper, the poor butler had practically had an aneurism when she told him of her plan to auction off the castle's finery.

The next target was the living quarters, where she housed her allies when they came for an audience with her. She walked up the stairs with Page, making companionable conversation for a change. It was good to just talk freely, not having to worry about moral implications and negative judgements. The rebel leader seemed to approve heartily of Lucille's new method of raising money, and had taken it as a sign that she was going to keep her promises and improve general life for the Albion people – even if taxes were still too high.

As they entered the west wing, Lucille caught sight of Logan and Jasper, who seemed to be in the midst of an argument. She was already quite sure what it was about, and as they closed in, her suspicions were confirmed.

"I assure you, Lord Logan, Her Majesty was the one who instructed me remove the decoration from the west wing. I apologise profusely if she failed to notify you of this decision. I'm led to believe it is to raise money for defence purposes," Jasper said, in his trademark placation-mixed-with-snipes.

Logan scowled at the butler, who had grown bolder with him now that the threat of physical harm was no longer a concern. He then noticed his sister with Page and swept past Jasper, who collected a stack of antique plates and took them off to be valued.

"Is this true, Lucille? You're selling the contents of the castle?"

She nodded, taking a small amount of pleasure in spiting him. "Anything that I can rip off the walls is coming down and going to auction. You said yourself that the treasury is the most important thing, and I've taken that to heart. If I expect the people of Albion to sacrifice to defend the country, then I should be leading by example. Starting with these horrid curtains."

Lucille grabbed hold of some yellow drapes, prising them free with Page's help, and staring at them in distaste. "Look at them, they're hideous."

"This is absurd," Logan breathed, looking at her as though she'd lost all sense. "You can't sell the entire contents of the castle. This is our heritage, our rights."

"Our heritage is a gypsy caravan by Bower Lake!" she exclaimed. "We don't come from some long line of monarchs; our mother was a homeless orphan and our father a villager. They never needed any extravagant belongings, and neither do we."

"You are the Queen–"

"People expect the Queen to lead her people," Page interjected, giving Logan a hard stare. "I thought the theme of your rule had been sacrifices for the greater good, Logan. You of all people should realise the value of leading your people through your own actions. And besides, Lucille is the ruler, not you."

He scowled at the rebel leader, before looking down the barren corridor. Page folded the curtains into her arms and walked off in the direction that Jasper had disappeared in.

"Why are you really doing this?" Logan asked, once she had gone.

"I'm being honest!" Lucille exclaimed indignantly. "What you said about our mother made me think. I have no intention of interpreting her words to mean starving and oppressing my people in order to save them. I think she meant that you should use unconventional means to achieve your goals, without worrying about what people think. That's why I'm going to ration things – especially frivolous nonsense that people don't need."

After her unsettling conversation with Logan previously, Lucille had demanded answers from Jasper. The butler had been frustratingly tight-lipped about the subject of her mother's early rule, and how exactly she took the throne. He simply mentioned a 'struggle', and that everything had gone quite smoothly afterwards. Given his uncooperative attitude, Lucille waited impatiently for Walter's return, and asked her questions of him as soon as he'd finished his report.

To Lucille's disappointment, her old mentor had verified most of Logan's story. Their mother had indeed assassinated her opponents during the civil war. It wasn't the actual killing that shocked Lucille – for the past year, she had expected to execute Logan – it was the fact that her mother had been so underhanded about it. It was unsettling to learn that woven into the stories of her heroic and noble deeds, were actions that were more than morally dubious – poison, blackmail, assassinations. Walter couldn't prove or disprove Logan's claim that the Queen had introduced him to Reaver. However, her mentor had said that when Reaver eventually returned to Albion from Samarkand, he and the queen had met on a few occasions. It was around then that the Hero of Skill founded his first factory, which dealt in exports to Samarkand.

Lucille was disquieted to think that her mother hadn't been possessed of unshakable moral fibre. She had sunk to the same levels as Logan on more than one occasion. She was just human. It was at that moment that she decided that her mother could act as a different source of inspiration than what she had been before.

Lucille continued. "I trust my instincts, and instinct says that I can raise money this way. If mother had meant us to be cynical of everything, then she would have told me those lessons too. I think your interpretation was wrong."

"You were a just a child when she tutored me, that's why she never taught you," Logan said in exasperation. "And you were the second-born; you were never meant to rule!"

"I'm not hurting my people," Lucille replied simply. She lifted a tapestry from the wall, and held it out to her brother. "I'm going to do this my way. Now, are you going to help me, or not?"

...


	7. The Weight of Morality

Month Six: The Weight of Morality

...

Preserve Bower Lake? Seriously?

Lucille restrained a cry of frustration as she listened to the petitions of Reaver and Page. Reaver had – not unreasonably – suggested draining the lake in order to gather the precious resources that were apparently lining its bed. This would of course mean a pleasant amount of gold for the treasury, and no citizens would be harmed or oppressed in the process. It seemed to be a winning decision, compared to the moral choices she had made over the past six months.

It couldn't possibly be that easy though. Of course not. After Reaver's proposal came Page's defamation, in which she argued that as a part of Albion's heritage and therefore its identity, the lake should be preserved – an action which would not only fail to raise money, but would actually drain it!

Lucille appreciated the beauty of Bower Lake, of course. However, considering the more significant importance of the Crawler's arrival, there wasn't a chance that she could reasonably consider turning down Reaver's suggestion. Draining the lake might indeed 'rob Albion of its soul', but it was far more important that the country survive its impending doom than have a pretty holiday spot preserved.

"Bower Lake shall be drained in order for mining to take place," Lucille declared.

"I am _thoroughly_ delighted to see you take such an agreeable stance, Your Majesty," Reaver said, treating Page to a particularly smug smile. The nefarious bastard certainly knew how to ham it up. Regardless of her personal feelings against the man though, Lucille had to admit that some of his suggestions were fairly reasonable. In fact, they seemed to grow more reasonable as time counted down towards the one-year-mark. That meant either Reaver was adjusting his proposals to fit her approach to leadership, or Lucille was loosening her moral standards to accommodate his proposals. The latter was a troubling thought.

Lucille left the throne room, but Page was hot on her heels.

"You took Reaver's side?" she asked incredulously. "Reaver?"

"It's not personal, Page," Lucille replied consolingly. "Draining Bower Lake is a shame, but it's not as though it would actively hurt anyone. I need to have my priorities straight, and saving a pretty landmark isn't one of them."

"Who do you think Reaver would have mining for these gems on the lake bed?" Page returned. "It'll just be another Reaver Industries enterprise: kids working for a pittance, executions to enforce obedience, people taken from their homes and forced to work for him."

Lucille laid a hand on the rebel leader's shoulder. "I won't let that happen."

Page shook it off. "That won't make a difference. When Logan first started his rule of Albion, he said that he'd make sure that people weren't exploited, and that he would make the country a fair and just place. And what happened then? Four years ago, Reaver Industries went from being a few corrupt factories to controlling all of Bowerstone Industrial. I thought you were going to stamp that out. It's what you agreed!"

The Queen scowled at the other woman, growing increasingly annoyed. This wasn't about her ruling on Bower Lake, it was about Page's personal vendetta against Reaver.

"I've already kept my promises to you! It would be wonderful to agree to every single nature-loving, people-coddling suggestion that's put to me, but Reaver was actually talking sense in there. We _need_ money. Mining _equals_ money. I've made my decision, and the sooner you realise that _I'm _the one in charge, the better."

Page's jaw tightened at Lucille's little tirade. The rebel's eyes narrowed, regarding her with an icy stare that seemed all too similar to the one Elliot had given her a few months ago. Right before he walked out of the castle. She hadn't spoken to him since then, and she had a feeling that things were about to go the same way with Page. Part of Lucille wondered if she should apologise for her outburst and try to placate her friend in some way, but the much bigger part of Lucille was fuming that despite her attempts to be a fair leader, her _friends_ were treating her like some despot-in-the-making.

A flicker of disappointment in Page's eyes was stamped out by her anger. "Maybe you will save Albion, but you shouldn't do it by destroying everything _worth_ saving. I've stood by and tried to accept your decisions lately, ones that I know are the actions of a _tyrant_, because I believed that you might still do the right thing by the people. But now I'm starting to wonder if you're too much like your brother."

The words tore through Lucille like a poison. Flames rippled around her hands, and she tried only slightly to subdue them. In that moment she wanted nothing more than to throw a fireball at Page and demand to know just how the rebel leader could do better in the same position. She wanted to force her to be the Queen, and watch the time tick by and the funds stagnate, knowing that her procrastination would be fatal. Lucille realised that she understood how her brother must have felt, shouldering the burden alone.

She dampened the flames, giving Page a humourless smile. "That might be true, but at least my brother was practical. And it's that kind of thinking that will save Albion, not sentimentality."

Page shook her head in disbelief. As Lucille watched her go, she ticked another friend off her mental list. That was a grand total of two that she had now lost. Not that she was keeping count.

...

From the castle garden, the whole of Bowerstone could be viewed – from the wealthy shops of the market, to the blackened chimneys of the industrial quarter. Lucille was responsible for all of it, and despite what Page or Elliot thought, she wasn't doing too bad a job. She had closed Reaver's factories – most of them – and thereby honoured her promise to Page, she had funded the restoration of Aurora and dispatched a contingent of soldiers to guard the city, presumably adhering her promise to Kalin. Other than Sabine and the Brightwall Academy, she had filled her obligations so far.

Sir barked excitedly, and she turned to see what had caught her dog's attention. Lucille felt a reluctant smile edge onto her face at the sight of her brother striding down the gardens towards her. It felt odd to be relieved to see him, and even odder because she knew he was the one person who wasn't going to give her a lecture. Logan had been in this same situation. The only difference was that he had been the one to lead the country against the Crawler by default – because he had been the King, and the only one of his soldiers to survive its attack. Lucille meanwhile was apparently fated to lead the charge against the Crawler because her status as a Hero decreed it. How different things would have been if Logan had been the Hero instead.

He reached the railing that Lucille was leaning against, giving an awkward pat to the animal that was bounding around his feet.

"Did you see the proposals today?" she asked, watching how comfortable Sir seemed to be around her brother. The dog was probably the only one who was.

"Not in person," he replied, straightening up. "It doesn't seem wise for me to be present during your rulings – you don't want your decisions tainted by my presence."

"Mm, the people might think I'm turning into you. Making all these harsh laws and plundering Albion's resources for my own selfish ends."

Logan shot her a wary glance, but it slipped off as he noticed that she was smiling at him. If anything though, the expression seemed to make him more uncomfortable. Lucille supposed she couldn't blame him, considering that she had given him the cold shoulder since his hearing, and had hated him long before that.

"How did you handle it, when people started to despise you for what you were doing?" she asked, hoisting herself up so that she was sat upon the railing. With her back to the city, she could survey the gardens peacefully. Her brother folded his arms, deciding instead to stand facing Bowerstone.

"I have never been very comfortable with the public scrutinising my every move," Logan admitted. "The change in public mood gave me a perfect reason to distance myself from them. Avoiding them also meant that I didn't have to endure their pleas for mercy, every time a group of them would form outside the castle."

"I remember that I used to go out and meet with them, promising to do what I could to help. Sometimes I used to promise that I would try and talk sense into you." Lucille shook her head with a wry laugh. "I really had no idea what I was talking about back then."

"The people of Albion seem to be the ones without any idea. They don't know what we do to save them." He brushed off his melancholy expression, replacing it with something Lucille might have called approval if she didn't know any better. "You chose the right option, draining the lake. I understand your attempts to be compassionate and uphold your promises, but in this instance a harsher decision was the right one."

"Try telling that to Page, she was furious."

"She is idealistic," he said, shrugging. "If you followed all of her proposals, Albion would be doomed."

Lucille pushed herself from the railing, standing so that she was facing Logan directly. No hiding.

"Do you honestly think that I can save Albion?"

He didn't meet her gaze. Instead, he stared out over Bowerstone, seemingly considering the question carefully. Lucille felt a twist of anxiety. She had started to lean towards his methods – their mother's methods – and if he thought that despite this there was still no chance of victory, then what in the world was she doing? She had to believe that hurting the people would save them, because if in the end she still failed, what good would her cruel actions have done?

"Logan?"

He faced her. "I think that if anyone can save Albion, it will be you."

Lucille inhaled. It wasn't quite the reassurance she was hoping for, but she had asked for the truth. Perhaps it was needy of her, but she wanted to know that _someone_ approved of her actions. Other than Logan, her allies could be divided into the categories 'apparently indifferent' and 'vocally disapproving'. Unless of course, one counted Reaver as an ally – but one should _never _count Reaver.

She nodded, gathering her calm. Logan placed a hand on her shoulder and gave it a light squeeze, before leaving her to her musings. Lucille still wasn't used to displays of affection from her brother, but the gesture was appreciated, even if she didn't show it. All those years, when her mother had faced adversity virtually alone, how had she managed it?

This afternoon, Lucille was to rule on the future of Brightwall Academy. Truly, she didn't understand why this decision couldn't wait until _after_ the threat of the darkness had passed. Education was not an immediate concern. She was almost certain how she would rule, and would have to brace herself against the betrayal in the face of Samuel, her very first follower in the rebellion. At least she wasn't planning to go to Brightwall any time soon.

It was time to head back to the castle. It was odd that after years of feeling trapped within its grounds, she now felt safe there. Her brother was right – it was easier to make the hard decisions from the comfort and safety of the castle, when she didn't have to look her people in the eye.

...


	8. The Weight of Compassion

**A/N: Three chapters this time. Dragon Age 2 comes out on the 11th here, so I'll probably put this story on hold for a week. Never fear, I will return to it afterwards! As always, thank you for reading :) **

...

Month Seven: The Weight of Compassion

...

Sometimes, Logan had the uncanny feeling that events were repeating themselves – and this was one such day.

A group of _concerned citizens_ – in other words, rabble-rousers – had gathered in front of the castle, shouting their concerns to any who would listen. However, the person they were trying to get the attention of was obviously the Queen. She was currently sequestered in the war room with Ben Finn, discussing how to deal with the upstarts.

Logan would have considered venturing his own suggestion, but he doubted Finn would hear him out, and Lucille seemed inclined to favour the soldier's opinion most of the time. He wasn't really sure what his sister found so respectable about Finn, other than his proficiency with a rifle.

In any event, the last time he had dealt with a group of protestors in front of his sister, the action had led to her running away and returning with a revolution. Perhaps it would be wise of him to avoid the conflict this time.

He headed to a first floor window so that he could get a good view of the proceedings, whilst remaining out of the way.

The crowd were currently being held away from the castle itself by a small group of guards. If things turned ugly, such a small number would not be able to control the rabble – not unless they began shooting. Logan knew the Queen wouldn't give that order.

His attention was diverted to the castle entrance, from which Lucille was emerging, flanked by Ben Finn. She seemed calm and confident, if a touch concerned. He couldn't help wondering how much was a mask – his own convictions had always made these events easier for him, if no less frustrating.

"Citizens of Albion," Lucille began. "I understand that you have concerns about some of the measures I have introduced, however I assure you that I have only Albion's best interests at heart–"

"How's it in Albion's best interests for my kids to starve?" yelled a factory worker, to the nodding approval of his fellows. Logan advocated shooting that one. A ring-leader, no doubt.

"I know that these measures seem harsh, but please understand that the country must be defended at all costs."

"Defended from what?" cried another. "We're not at war!"

Lucille spread her hands in a placating gesture. Logan frowned. She shouldn't be coddling them like this – she should be ordering them to do their part if they wanted to live. This method wouldn't work any better.

"There is a threat facing Albion greater than any before. We must unite against it, and that requires sacrifices from all of us."

"'Sacrifices!'" spat a dock worker. "Exactly what Logan said! He's been pouring poison in your ear!"

Logan almost smiled. It didn't surprise him that the people would believe Lucille tainted by association. Once he had done his part against the Crawler, perhaps he ought to leave Albion – or Bowerstone, at least – and allow his sister a clean slate. As though Logan could sway his sister so easily anyway. She was more than capable of making her own stubborn decisions.

"I regret that these policies are making life difficult," Lucille said. "However, they are necessary. Once the threat has passed, I will be able to lower the taxes, improve wages and begin the important task of restoring Albion's glory. Until this time, I ask for your patience and diligence."

"You're asking for a lot more than that!"

Lucille frowned at the angry protestors and shook her head, visibly weary. She turned to return to the castle, murmuring something to Ben Finn as she passed. The soldier signalled to his men, who began herding the people back towards the Market district.

At this, the protestors grew more obtuse, some refusing to move. There weren't enough guards to properly force the people way from the castle. Logan was beginning to wonder if they might storm the place and run amok, when Finn reluctantly fired a shot into the air. At the sound of a gunshot, most of the people scattered. They had been well-trained from Logan's reign, and still knew to run when a guard started firing.

Eventually, the castle grounds were clear of protestors, but he knew their presence would not disappear so easily from Lucille's mind. He debated whether or not to investigate. He wasn't supposed to be interfering, but it was frustrating being so close to these events and yet having no way to influence them – or even know all the facts. It was at moments such as these that he appreciated the dissatisfaction Lucille must have felt as Princess during his rule.

Logan decided to find his sister – to offer some semblance of moral support, if nothing else.

Lucille had retreated to the solemn comfort of the war room and was now pacing it, aggravation marked in her every movement and the frown on her face. He noticed for the first time the dark shadows around her eyes, the way her mouth seemed to automatically set itself into a downward curve, and the constant pinched expression of her brow. He had noticed similar things in himself during his reign – the evidence was still there on his face. It was the obvious effect of stress, coupled with a lack of sleep and appetite. Perhaps his sister also spent many nights awake, trying to make use of every second she had until the darkness came.

As Logan appeared in the war room, Ben Finn pushed past him and addressed Lucille.

"I've fired a few warning shots, and they've run off now. S'pose it would've been too much to assume they'd leave if we asked nicely."

"What am I going to do about them?" Lucille wondered aloud. She then seemed to realise she wasn't alone in the room, and asked Finn: "What are they likely to do now?"

He shrugged. "That group's been getting riled up for the past month now – I'm surprised they haven't done anything sooner. The leaders have been gathering outside factories and preaching to the workers, telling them about how they should fight for their rights." Finn glanced at the uninvited third party. "They're also saying that you're just acting as a puppet so that Logan can continue to rule, and that's why your policies seem similar."

"Fools!" she groaned.

Logan decided to voice the issue that had been on his mind for a few weeks, since he witnessed Lucille's alienation of her most useful ally in the city – Page. "I think it would be better if I left Bowerstone–"

"Running away?" Ben Finn asked, raising his eyebrows.

"Hardly," Logan replied icily. "But it seems clear that my presence is causing problems for the Queen, if the people are questioning her authority."

"Where would you go?" she asked. "The last thing I want is angry peasants hunting you down for a spot of revenge before the Crawler arrives."

Although Logan realised that Lucille wanted to avoid the loss of a potentially useful ally, he felt touched to think that she might be concerned for his personal safety too.

"Besides," Lucille continued, "if you leave, the only difference it will make is that people will realise I'm hurting them of my own free will. I don't think that would help placate them. Ben, is there anything we could do to keep the ringleaders quiet?"

"Bribe them?" he offered.

"With what?" Logan pointed out. "These measures were introduced to fill the treasury. Aside from that, even if you could bribe the ringleaders to step down, another upstart would smell the incentive of gold and fill their spot. Unless you intend to bribe every would-be revolutionary, I doubt that plan will work."

"What would you suggest instead then?" Finn always seemed less easy-going when the former-King was around, and today was no exception. "Round 'em up for a good old public execution? Charge an entrance fee for the whole bloody circus to raise money for the treasury?"

"_That_ plan has merit," Logan answered, eyebrow arched.

"Stop arguing," Lucille ordered, sounding eerily like her mother. She folded her arms, staring at the sword that was mounted over the fireplace. It had been their mother's, a gift from one of her old Hero friends. They kept many of her possessions in pride of place. Objects of sentimental value were the few things that Lucille had not auctioned off. "Ben, have someone watch the ring-leaders. I want to know if they intend to actually rebel, or whether they're just upset and vocal."

"What if they are going to rebel?" he asked.

"Then I arrest them," she replied, looking not at the soldier, but at her brother. Her expression was hardened, her tone heavy with finality. Logan might have been mistaken, but he could've sworn he'd just seen their mother in those eyes.

...


	9. The Weight of Necessity

Month Eight: The Weight of Necessity

...

Lucille reread Ben's report. She had practically memorised the words, and she knew that they weren't going to change just because she wanted them to. Foolish rebels. For the past few weeks she had been hoping that they were just complaining, that it was another harmless protest. She had seen a few of those during her brother's time – there had been some protestors whose actions hadn't been deemed threatening enough to warrant a bloodbath. Had they just stuck to angry speeches then she could have ignored them. Eventually she could have actually agreed to some of their demands.

Instead, Ben's men had found that the ring-leaders were discreetly – though not discreetly enough – spreading malcontent throughout the people. They had stuck up posters and flyers with double meanings and hidden clues about a group that was forming. One of Ben's people had gone undercover to one of these meetings and discovered that the group – calling themselves the Union – were intending an assassination of both Lucille and her brother, through use of a spy placed within the castle. Once the royal family was expunged, they would place 'one of the common people' on the throne instead. It seemed to have escaped their notice that the late Queen had been one of the common people herself.

Had treason not been suggested, Lucille would have been happy to let things play out, but she had to act. And her actions had to send a message to the other protestors. She could arrest them – actually she was within her rights to execute them publically. However, the Union was so far restricted to Bowerstone Industrial – word of their actions might never spread beyond there, but word of her executing them out of hand would reach as far as Aurora. She had to be more subtle.

Lucille had decided that she wouldn't even tell her closest allies about her intentions. Not even Logan, who would probably approve. She had to remove the ring-leaders, and send a message to the others. And she needed lots more money.

There was only one person that she believed capable of the job. She knew he owed her no loyalty – not as the Queen and not as the daughter of her mother – but she also knew that he would respond well to the promise of power. Other than that, she had been approving his proposals absurdly frequently, and even when she didn't it was still his company who saw her plans actualised – he owed her. Besides, he liked killing and extorting, he'd probably enjoy this. Of course, she was talking about Reaver.

It was too late to be awake, but she had purposefully made their appointment very late, so that fewer people would notice his arrival. Lucille wondered what the witnesses would think – that she was succumbing to her brother's evil and collaborating with a psychopath, or that she was having some lurid affair with Reaver? She shuddered and fervently hoped they believed the former.

Without so much as a polite knock, the door to Lucille's study swung open. The morally deficient fop sauntered inside, apparently still perfectly well-groomed and energetic despite the late hour. Lucille felt disgusted that she found him attractive. Perhaps she really ought to have met him during the day instead. She wanted nothing more than to just fall into bed and sleep, and Avo knew what Reaver would do to her if she passed out whilst he was around.

"Reaver, I'm glad you came," Lucille said, forcing herself to sound civil. The last thing she needed was Reaver making this more difficult than it was – and he could if he wanted to. Over-mighty subjects were the scourge of all monarchies.

She extended a hand for him to shake.

"It's always a _pleasure_ to be invited to secret meetings in the dead of night," he replied slimily, taking her proffered hand and pressing it to his lips. "I had a few of those with your dear brother. One never knows what these meetings will entail, but I am always eager to find out."

Trying to suppress the imagery of her brother cavorting with Reaver in the very same room, Lucille folded her hands behind her and decided to get straight to the point. "This isn't a social meeting, Reaver. I have a few jobs that require someone of your... talents."

"My talents shan't disappoint, I'm sure." He was far too glib, considering that she was the Queen and he just a subject – albeit a powerful one. "I must say, I'm delighted that you seem more enthusiastic about our working together now. When we first met, you and your unsporting friend ruined my party and were rather rude to my guests. And then of course you shut down my factories and give the feckless idiots of this city their petty freedoms. Now you call me here asking for favours. I've half a mind to refuse, as you've hurt my feelings so terribly, but I'll admit it is always pleasing to have a Queen in one's debt."

"I am not 'in you debt', Reaver."

"Not yet, my dear."

Lucille scowled at him. The longer this took, the more convinced she became that working with him was a bad idea. Her mother's co-operation had sown the seeds of Reaver's business enterprise, and her brother had handed the man almost total control of Albion's industry. What if he got out of control? Or people discovered that she was working with him?

She gathered the report that Ben had written and handed it to Reaver. He stood leaning on his cane by the fire, and she waited silently whilst he skimmed through the notes. As enlightenment came upon him, Lucille saw the smug look that bounded onto his face.

"Ah, I see now," he said, waving his cane at her. "You think I'm some common mercenary to hire out. Sorry to disappoint you, _Your Eminence_, but those particular talents are not for sale. If you have any other offers...?"

"You might not be an assassin, but it wouldn't be the first time you've just shot someone for no apparent reason, would it?" she prompted. "Just make sure that it's _these particular people_ that happen to get in your way, and I'll make sure my soldiers turn a blind eye."

"I see." He didn't seem particularly enthusiastic about this proposal, but Lucille hadn't finished laying out her requirements yet.

"Aside from removing a few troubling people, I also require some extra assistance." She folded her arms. Taking care of the treasonous subjects was a smaller issue, but Lucille also needed the money that such a large and unscrupulous corporation as Reaver Industries could offer. All it would require was for her to be similarly shy of morals. Perhaps there was a way to allow Reaver power now, and then take it from him when she no longer needed his help. "As Logan may have told you, it's imperative that the treasury be filled in the next four months. I've already amassed over half of the requirement, but that isn't nearly enough to prepare and defend Albion. This is where you come into it. You can help us against the darkness."

"I don't think so," Reaver replied airily. "I happen to be quite a fan of darkness – it makes ugly people look surprisingly more attractive. And as your lovely mother may or may not have told you – I don't do any of that _Hero business_. It's rather a lot of work and frankly, I can't be bothered."

Lucille shook her head. She had never expected Reaver to consider putting his combat skills to use for the good of the population. "I'm not interested in having you fight with us. I want the money Reaver Industries can offer."

"And how do you propose I garner these funds when you've closed down my most lucrative enterprises? I've been reduced to funding _schools,_ of all things."

She moved closer to her prospective business ally, making sure no guards would overhear her. He seemed vaguely intrigued – or at least, that's how she chose to interpret that smirk. "I'm sure you could think of some way to gather the money – Reaver Industries is running the mining operation in Millfields, and overseeing the admission fee to Brightwall Academy. A few more ventures like that and the treasury will be full in no time."

"I thought Your Noble Majesty didn't want to appear to be working with Reaver Industries?" he asked wryly.

"I'm not working with you, I'm just giving you some advice and claiming the portion of the profits that are rightfully mine as your ruler. I may have shut down your factories in Bowerstone, but there are plenty of other places in Albion where an intelligent man might make his fortune."

Reaver smiled. "I see, but that brings us to the most important part of this little _soiree_ – how exactly do _I_ benefit from our little arrangement?"

"Other than me allowing Reaver Industries to continue running?"

"It appears to me that you don't have much choice in that matter. You need me, my dear."

Lucille sighed. "I'm sure we can come to some kind of agreement."

Reaver moved closer – too close for comfort. She could feel his breath on her lips, the suggestive smile on his face. Lucille glared at the reprehensible man, but she didn't move. If this was all he wanted in return for the funding of his company, then she could oblige him... right?

Then she remembered when she had first seen him – he had mercilessly, happily shot an innocent worker several times outside his child labour factory. And then there was her time in his manor – a drunken orgy to which _balverines_ had been the main guests, a party in which one of the main events was watching two innocent woman being attacked by all manner of creatures, his secret room filled with cages: a rack, chickens and a _bunny rabbit_. The only way she was letting this man near her was if she were unconscious.

Lucille pushed him away. She gathered a few flames to lick her hand, which she flexed pointedly as she stared at him. Reaver didn't seem put off in the least. Instead he glibly strolled over to the door to her chambers and swung it open.

She ignored it. "Naturally, this business agreement will be discreet. I don't want anyone knowing of this meeting, or anything that we've said."

"Aha, where have I heard those words before?" He laughed, tapping the cane against his thigh. "Mm, your mother – feisty creature – was quite insistent that no one know how friendly we were. And then of course Logan was rather keen on keeping things quiet too, at first. He was a tad disappointing, I must say – I suppose that would be the lack of Heroism. However, if you wanted to invite him along to these little meetings, I wouldn't be adverse to the idea."

Lucille shut her eyes, praying that someone would stop her from throttling Reaver. He must think everyone as depraved as himself. She opened her eyes and gave him a mock-smile. "Of course, Reaver. Why don't I invite some hobbes along too?"

"Well, they aren't to my tastes, but I wouldn't say no."

"I get the impression you wouldn't say no to anything," she told him coldly.

"How very perceptive of you."

Lucille had had enough of him. "It's time this meeting came to a close. Goodnight, Reaver. The exit is through the other door, if you don't mind."

She gestured towards the hallway, and Reaver thankfully obliged. It was late, and she really wanted a drink. Something nice and strong to purge how dirty she felt just from talking to him. Tomorrow would be a long day, yet again, and some sleep wouldn't go amiss. She doubted she would get much respite however. The encounter with Reaver had left her feeling more uneasy than before, and it didn't help that her conscience was yelling 'what the hell are you doing?' at the top of its voice.

Once Reaver had passed over the threshold from her study and into the hallway, Lucille barred the way back in, just in case he got any ideas. He inclined his head towards her, a smarmy smile on his face.

"Tatty bye, Your Magnificence. I look forward to our next meeting."

She watched uncomfortably as he strolled leisurely down the corridor, stopping briefly to poke at a curtain with his cane. The curtain squealed and a servant fell out, guilt spread across his face.

Lucille strode over to see what the servant had been doing, and saw a peephole behind the curtain that gave a clear view of her study. How long had it been there for? Who had put it there? The servant had clearly been spying on her, but for whom – the Union? Regardless, he might tell others about her secret meeting with Reaver, and the fact that she – like her tyrant brother – was about to enter a business partnership with him. He couldn't be allowed to talk.

Lucille felt Reaver watching her. She met his gaze, and gave a resolute nod. Sneering menacingly at the cowering servant, Reaver grabbed the man by the scruff of the neck and dragged him off to some unenviable fate. Perhaps it involved the Wheel of Misfortune.

Horrible, useful man.

...


	10. The Weight of Promises

Month Nine: The Weight of Promises

...

It was highly unfair of Walter and Ben to double-team her like this. It seemed as though they had waited on purpose until she was on her own so that they could ambush her with remonstrations.

Until now, both the soldiers had been surprisingly permissive of her harsher actions. Lucille had expected it of Walter, who always seemed to accept her no matter how badly she behaved. The same was true of Jasper. Ben on the other hand, she had expected to speak up before now, especially since she had driven Page off.

They cornered her in the war room – her favourite haunt lately – as she read a note from Reaver. It seemed as though her arrangement with him was finally filling her coffers at a delightfully rapid rate, even if it remained morally unsound.

Lucille folded her arms, ready for whatever they threw at her. She also had Sir close at hand to fawn at their feet and make them feel like thoroughly bad people for judging her.

"What's your concern?"

"You turned the orphanage into a whorehouse," Ben said bluntly. "I know you've got to be cruel to be kind, but isn't that a bit far?"

"You've seen how much money the new establishment is making," Lucille pointed out. "And if you want to blame someone, blame the depraved sexual appetites of Bowerstone. Apparently, despite not having enough money to feed themselves, people still have enough to pay for sex. The brothel's making a fortune, so it's obviously giving the people something that they want – and perhaps a few things they don't want."

"And the children?" Walter reminded her. "The homeless?"

She frowned, before gesturing to the castle as a whole. "They can be housed here, if need be. The south wing of the castle is mostly deserted. Add a bit of furniture, and they can go there. In any case, this will only last a few more months, then I can reopen the shelter, better than it ever was before. A few months, compared to the rest of my life in which to make up for my harsh regimes. A little longer and they'll see it was all worth it."

"Assuming they live long enough to see it," Walter breathed.

Lucille looked at him sharply. Then she reminded herself who she was glaring at, and tried to soften her expression a little. Instead, her next words just came out wearily. "Was there anything else?"

"About Kalin and Sabine..."

Oh, of course. Lucille had had a rather miserable week, choosing to turn down both of her allies' proposals in favour of Reaver's. Despite Lucille honouring her promise to rebuild Aurora, Kalin had apparently not considered that enough. She was coldly furious not to receive her fortress, claiming that this was the second time that the rulers of Albion had failed her – they were happy to take her people as colonists but refused them equal rights, something like that. The laugh of it was, Lucille's rejection _had _placed the Aurorans on equal footing to the Albions; agreeing would have shown favour to the desert people whilst the citizens on her doorstep starved in the street. Sabine was similarly furious, though she had expected it. The Dweller had only asked for one thing, and she had not given it. Lucille felt guilty, but she couldn't have passed up the opportunity for more gold. Despite offering both Dwellers and Aurorans refuge elsewhere in Albion, both leaders had angrily deserted.

"I'm ashamed of breaking my promise," she sighed. "But Kalin was asking for a lot of money, after I already spent a great deal rebuilding her city."

"It was Logan's broken promise that lead to this," Walter explained. "I don't think the Aurorans are going to trust Albion easily, not when they've been let down again. They probably won't support us when the Crawler attacks."

"Neither will the Dwellers, but that's probably because they're going to be drifting for a while until they find a new home," Ben added.

Lucille frowned. "They can move to Driftwood. I'm sorry for turning my back on them, but Reaver's scheme is producing a lot of gold and useful resources. I don't regret my choice."

Ben and Walter exchanged glances.

"What?"

"Well, that's another thing," Walter said, seeming cautious. "We've noticed that recently, you seem to be approving everything Reaver puts forward."

"The man has a lot of helpful ideas lately," she replied with a shrug.

"Look, are you sleeping with Reaver?" Ben asked.

Lucille choked slightly. She was about to laugh, but then she saw the serious expressions on their faces. "No! Of course I'm not! How little do you both think of me?"

Walter shook his head, perhaps in relief, or disbelief. "A few servants and guards have noticed him coming and going from the castle late at night. He seemed to be making a half-baked attempt to be discreet, but Reaver and discretion have never mixed well."

She groaned. Bloody idiot – how hard was it to sneak into the castle? She'd managed to get out on various occasions as a child and teenager, and that was under the watchful eye of her older brother, not a few sleepy guards.

"I was hoping no one would see him."

"So he _has_ been meeting you then?" Ben asked, seemingly uncomfortable at the thought.

"Yes, and the conclusion you jumped to thrills me no end, I assure you," Lucille replied waspishly. "I've been meeting Reaver to discuss business arrangements. The people seem to have such little faith in me at the moment as it is – I don't need them to know I'm actively working with Reaver."

"Why are you?" Walter began. "The old Queen–"

"My mother knew that Reaver was a useful ally, if an untrustworthy one," she said, reminding her old guardian of the truths she now knew about her mother. The old 'your mother wouldn't have stood for this' line didn't work so well now. "I'm working with Reaver until the day we march out against the Crawler. After that, I'll do all I can to stop the man – I've got no qualms about breaking my promises to _him_."

Her friends didn't look convinced. She reached out to them. "Please, stand by me. You're the only people left I can count on."

Walter's troubled expression softened, and he dropped a meaty arm around her shoulders. The tension in Lucille's body eased at the gesture of solidarity. "We'll be with you every step of the way," he assured.

Ben gave a friendly half-shrug. "We're just worried about what we're all getting into."

...


	11. The Weight of Truth

**A/N: Ack! Sorry this has taken so long! Essays at uni have really been getting on top of me, and obviously they get priority. Anyway, here's two new chapters. Thanks for reading!**

...

Month Ten: The Weight of Truth

...

Lucille had spent a great deal of time in the portrait room lately, staring at the various pictures of her family. After she auctioned all the paintings that had accumulated there, the only ones that remained were of her family, as well as one painted in tribute to Theresa and the other Heroes who had helped the late Queen defeat Lucien Fairfax. This room had replaced the treasury as Lucille's favourite haunt, although sometimes she still wandered down there to leaf through the ledger and revel in the money she had managed to accumulate. The country was almost completely prepared for the Crawler's arrival. She had even overseen the training of a few Will-users, who would be stationed all over Albion – after all, Lucille would be restricted to Bowerstone, and it would be helpful to have people elsewhere who could throw gouts of flame at the Children.

The paintings that had caught her attention in particular were those on the longest wall. Currently, there were only three portraits up there, because her mother had decided that there would be a tradition of hanging up paintings of the rulers of Albion since her reign. This of course meant that the wall only featured paintings of her and her two children so far. Lucille's wasn't so much a painting though – it was just the wanted poster Logan had circulated during after her escape.

Lucille was staring pensively at the three portraits when Walter entered, unsurprised to find her there.

"Not bad news is it, Walter?"

"Depends on what you call bad news," replied the beefy soldier, joining her by the portraits. "There was a protest in Bowerstone Industrial yesterday, but the ring-leaders have, ah, disappeared, it seems. On the bright side, the watch tower relay's finished, so we should get an early warning as soon as the Crawler makes its move."

"Good."

Walter glanced up at the painting of her mother, looking a little wistful.

"Feeling nostalgic?" Lucille asked, after a few minutes.

He jumped slightly, apparently surprised to be caught in his thoughts. "Sometimes I just wonder what the old Queen would've thought about all this. Probably, she'd have just been thrilled by the thought of a good fight." Walter chuckled. "I don't think I'll ever get used to fighting alongside a Hero."

Lucille looked at the painting of her mother – a muscular woman, covered in glowing blue lines. She looked as formidable as she was. Another Hero would be an asset to their defence, but she doubted Reaver could be convinced to fight for them – not for any amount of gold. That left her most useful allies as Walter, Ben and Logan; half of what it could have been, but better than none. Lucille decided that once the threat passed, she would have to reward them extravagantly.

She yawned, feeling tired still.

"Walter," Lucille began thoughtfully. "Can you see the family resemblance?"

He nodded. "There's no mistaking a Hero when you see one. I always had a feeling that you might inherit your mother's talent, but I never thought your brother would. Looks like my instincts were right. You've got her face, no mistaking it. I reckon you've got your father's heart though." Walter smiled fondly. "You're a softie, just like him."

"A softie?" Lucille laughed. "You'd still say that after all I've done?"

"Eh, you've done some hard things, but you've spent the last several months questioning yourself for it. Logan never seemed to have doubts, and he never seemed to care that his actions had consequences."

She frowned. "I don't think that's completely true."

Lucille knew that Logan was more ruthless than her, but she didn't believe that he didn't care about the people. He must have cared, or he wouldn't have done all that to save them. In his reign, Logan had never used the money lavishly or wastefully – it had all gone into the army. It wasn't a soft-hearted form of love, but it didn't mean he didn't feel it. It was the same with his feelings towards her.

She shook her head. "I wasn't talking about my mother anyway; I was talking about the resemblance between me and Logan."

Walter faced her, his turn to frown now. "Why do you ask that?"

Before he'd arrived, Lucille had been thinking about a conversation she had with Elliot, before she even knew about the Crawler. Logan had been in a foul mood yet again, taking his frustration out on everyone who so much as looked at him askance. She had received the brunt of his temper that day, irrevocably damaging her opinion of him, but before that she had been feeling nostalgic. Lucille and Elliot had discussed their childhood antics, which Logan – despite being older – had been part of sometimes. And sometimes they would dare each other to wind him up. When they had been children of course, his temper hadn't been as dangerous as when he was King. Lucille had known that his personality had changed for the worse, but she hadn't noticed his appearance, until Elliot brought it up.

As the crown Prince, Logan had been a tall, slender and not unattractive young man. He had the finely chiselled features, high cheekbones and intelligent eyes that both the royal heirs had inherited. Later in his rule, his frame began thin, his face hard and lined. His eyes were shadowed and cold, and he didn't look capable of kindness.

Only the other day, looking in the mirror, Lucille had noticed the same things marring her own appearance. She didn't look as though she'd slept for days. Her mouth was hard and thin, her eyebrows pinched. Lucille had rubbed at her face, trying to soften it somehow, but she couldn't escape the impression that she had adopted her brother's image entirely. No wonder the people thought she was the same.

Lucille explained her realisation to Walter. Anyone else – except perhaps Logan himself – might have tried to sugar coat it to make her feel better, but Walter had always been straight to the point.

"You're not the merry girl I once knew, that's true enough. I remember the days when Jasper had to drag you from bed just to get you down to the training room. You've had to grow up quickly, and it's affected you – it was bound to. When I look at you, I see the same hardened woman that your mother was age fifty. I never noticed it with Logan, because he was never exactly the cheerful and boisterous type, but I've seen it in you. But you know what – it doesn't mean a thing." Walter lay a large hand on her shoulder. "You might have been affected by something dark, but that doesn't mean it'll stay that way forever. It doesn't mean you're infected by it."

Lucille glanced towards him, noticing the change in tone. He seemed quite sombre and apprehensive. The only time she had ever known Walter be nervous was when she had been with him underground – most noticeably in the Crawler's cave. She wondered if he was thinking about it.

"Remember your own advice, Walter," she advised. "When this is all over, we can all go skipping round Bowerstone Market, dressed in chicken suits and swigging ale."

"That'd be a fine sight," he agreed.

"Especially if I can get Logan to join in," she laughed. "He probably wouldn't have gone in for that even when we were kids."

Walter smiled at her fondly. "You know, it seems to me that you're getting along with him very well these days. I might be wrong, but it's almost as though you _like_ him."

She shrugged. "He's my brother."

"You wouldn't have said that so casually a year ago," he reminded her. "You hated Logan back then, as we all did. What changed?"

Lucille's gaze flicked towards the portrait of her brother, staring seriously at the pair of them. What had changed? Everything.

...


	12. The Weight of Conscience

Month Eleven: The Weight of Conscience

...

"Doesn't the sight of all that gold just make you feel tingly all over, Your Majesty?"

Lucille cocked an eyebrow at her assistant, Hobson. The man had been serving her for almost a year now, but she still hadn't gotten used to his peculiarities. He had seemed almost ecstatic when she passed some of her harshest policies, and she remembered that he had almost wet himself when she introduced an alcohol ban. That one _had_ made sense though – the last thing Albion needed was the population vomiting in the streets.

His abnormal eagerness to punish others – a trait that would serve him well if ever employed by Reaver – was perhaps what made _her_ so excited to be reforming her policies now. The changes mostly wouldn't come into fruition until next year, but it would be something for her people to hope for. Lucille wanted to show them that she was a woman of her word, and now that they'd worked themselves to the bone for their own defence, they could rest.

"Hobson," Lucille said brightly, framed by a heap of leftover gold. "I have good news: because we have gained all the gold necessary to protect Albion, I will be reforming some of my policies now. For starters–"

"Ah! Your Majesty, I don't quite–"

"For starters," she persisted, as though he hadn't spoken, "I want to reduce the tax rate, lower than what my brother set last year. The child fine can also be revoked immediately. We'll also introduce an alcohol limit as opposed to a complete ban. I don't want a country filled with drunks – particularly not before the Crawler arrives."

"Your Majesty, I should first warn you that Albion's economy is on the verge of collapse!" Hobson blurted.

"And then – wait, what?" Lucille halted mid-thought, staring at the little man.

"King Logan always kept the economy one step away from collapse, but I'm afraid your radical – if sensible – policies have pushed it too far. You are left with the option of either bailing out the economy, or allowing it to collapse. The former would of course be harmful to the treasury in the short run. It's your decision, Your Majesty."

"Balls," she whispered.

Financial-bloody-collapse. Well, why not? It seemed as though someone was having one heck of a laugh at her expense. Stabilising the economy wouldn't thwart the preparations she had already made, but it would deplete what she had saved since then. That of course meant that her policies would have to hold a little longer. Lucille wasn't about to save her people and implement fairer laws just to have to tax them to repair damage to the city after the Crawler came. She didn't imagine that thing would be very considerate of clean-up costs. Lucille shuddered.

It meant as well that she wouldn't be able to deliver the fairness and justice she had been promising her people lately. They probably hadn't believed her in the first place, but it didn't make it any less demoralising. Breaking promises was becoming a bad habit. Of course the one promise she did want to break – her alliance with Reaver – would have to be reinforced instead to compensate. Running a country wasn't half as much fun as it had always sounded in Walter's stories.

...

After the debacle over the economy earlier, Lucille was almost relieved that she only had to deal with a charity ball in the evening. It was an event that would hopefully gather a reasonable sum to support the poor of Bowerstone, and would involve mingling with the city's wealthiest and most vapid members. She probably would have called the thing off, but Jasper had spent the afternoon painstakingly putting together an outfit and she didn't have the heart to waste his efforts.

Lucille donned the outfit. It was some fancy trouser/skirt hybrid that would allow her to look stylish, but also give her freedom of movement in a sword fight – should such a thing occur. Jasper had selected some make up to try and disguise the tired circles beneath her eyes, but it didn't quite do the trick.

"Will you have a handsome young gentleman escorting you this evening?" Jasper asked wryly.

She snorted. "Of course not, who would I take?"

The only people she had associated with lately had been her brother, Reaver, Walter, Ben, Jasper and Hobson – none of which were suitable escorts, and a couple were plain repulsive. Of course, Elliot wasn't an option these days; it gave her a wistful smile to remember the times when he had always been her escort.

No, she would go alone.

In any case, it would be far better for her to appear independent – her mother had apparently received some criticism for being a female monarch, especially because her father clearly hadn't been the power behind the throne. Lucille hoped to continue that idea of a strong female leader.

"Half of them will be there anyway," she muttered, "so it's not as though I'll be trapped alone in the midst of those babbling idiots."

"I remember when hobnobbing with those 'babbling idiots' had been a very entertaining diversion for you – one that required new garments to be sown and a new hairstyle." Jasper gave her short, scruffy hair a pointed glance.

"That was before I learned that there are more important things than frilly skirts, Jasper," she reminded him.

He sighed. "That's exactly what your brother said."

"Exactly?" Lucille couldn't imagine her serious brother once dreaming of frilly skirts – either wearing them or chasing them.

"Well, no, of course not. But he didn't have much time for his appearance either." The butler shook his head, folding up the garments she had previously been wearing. "What is the world coming to?"

...

It was embarrassing to think of how pampered Lucille had been before she became a Hero, and these people reminded her of exactly that.

Although life under Logan's thumb had never been particularly carefree, it had been easier than what many people in Albion put up with. When Page had shared her experiences as a child worker, and Ben had described how poverty had turned his family to crime, Lucille always felt ashamed to have complained about her early life – until that fateful day, of course.

"This ball is somewhat different to the ones your brother used to have, isn't it?" said Emilia, daughter of one of Albion's elite. "I see he hasn't shown up. Probably a good thing, that is."

"And why is that?" Lucille replied coldly. "He has every right to be here."

Emilia looked stricken. "Oh, of course, Your Majesty. I, um, I just meant that he's not really the type for fancy parties... I mean, he never seemed to enjoy them." She twisted her hands together in a vivid reminder of the cowering way people had addressed her brother – it wasn't just the respect the Crown was due, it was fear.

Lucille attempted to soften her expression. "I'm aware that my brother was an unpopular ruler. I have no illusions that I am any different–"

"Oh, no, Your Majesty! Everyone loves–"

"But I hope to change that opinion in the near future," Lucille continued, cutting the sycophant off. "I've already asked a lot of the people, but I intend to make up for it. Both myself and my brother intend to make Albion a country to be proud of. Events like this should make a reasonable start."

Not particularly wanting to hear the reply, Lucille moved off.

Genuinely defending her brother at a formal ball, what irony. She remembered a couple of years ago when she had been invited simply so that Logan could dispel rumours that he'd murdered her, and try and show his citizens that he still retained a shred of decency. It had been Lucille's duty to work through the guests, singing her brother's virtues to everyone present. She doubted anyone had bought it, particularly because she had not delivered her lies convincingly. At the time, Logan had felt like a stranger to her – one she barely understood and didn't trust. Now, she was defending her brother sincerely against the same people. Deposing him was probably the best thing that could have happened for their relationship.

Noticing that Reaver had decided to put in an appearance, Lucille wandered over to speak to him. It was foolish and pointless, but she would be remiss not to try.

"Your Majesty," he said, his entourage fading away. "Are you going to ask for a dance?"

"I wanted to talk about the Crawler."

"Don't you always," he sighed, sipping his drink. "It's getting a little dull."

She folded her arms stubbornly. "I know you're not one to stick your neck out for others–" Reaver laughed at the idea, "–but when the darkness comes, it will affect you too. How well do you think Reaver Industries will do if there aren't any people to exploit?"

"I'll adapt. I wasn't always a businessman."

Lucille decided to appeal to his more hedonistic nature. "Who will you have sex with if everyone's dead?"

Reaver seemed to give this notion some thought. Then he just gave her an annoyed look. "Why are you bothering me with this anyway?"

"You're a Hero too," she reminded him. "That would be an asset to our army. And if it's a reward you're wanting–"

He set his glass down, and Lucille doubted he was going to hang around much longer. She wasn't surprised – he probably wanted to return to his circle of simpering nitwits. It was a waste of time to assume he'd put someone else's interests before his own.

"I would love to help you protect the troglodytes of this city, truly," Reaver's replied pithily. Then he sobered, and spoke more quietly. "However, I have more pressing matters to take care of. I want nothing to do with your little fight against the Crawler; it's not in my interests to get on the wrong side of shadows."

With that, Reaver departed. What a waste of useful potential. It had been absurd to even consider him an ally. Talking with him was always an uncomfortable experience, and she had a drink to rearrange her thoughts.

Lucille looked around to find one of her genuine friends and spotted Ben – looking distinctly out of place around the gentry. It didn't help that he looked scruffy even when trying to be smart. She weaved through the elegant dresses and expensive suits to reach him.

"You know, if you sold half the clothes in the room, you could probably feed half of Bowerstone," he commented, surveying the crowd.

"But then we'd have a lot of naked guests; that's not a good thing."

"Clearly you've never been to a good party before." He gave her a wolfish grin.

Lucille noticed that a couple of noblewomen had become unreasonably interested in her interactions, so she formalised the conversation – starting with a step back so they looked more like subject and Queen, and less like co-conspirators.

"So, I hear you've spoken to Page recently. Did she... have anything to say?"

Ben gave her a friendly grimace. "Nothing pleasant, I'm afraid. She was a bit chilly with me when I saw her – probably because I haven't quit in protest. Like that would do much good when we've got a country to defend.

"Sorry for ruining your relationship." She half-smiled.

"Page'll warm back up eventually," he said light-heartedly. "Once she realises that we've saved Albion from a fate worse than Reaver. I don't think she's likely to forgive you soon though."

Lucille shrugged. "Oh, I thought as much. I just miss having another woman to talk to. After spending months with a bunch of sweaty men, it was good to have a female presence. Now I'm back to the men, and it's not nearly as fragrant anymore."

Ben clutched his heart, looking mock-affronted. "I see how it is – you use us, and then dump us when you find someone prettier. You _villain_."

"That's me."

...

Given the choice, Logan would avoid the party like a plague. This had always been his sister's domain, not his – although she seemed equally unenthusiastic when the thing began. Fortunately she had cheered up now, courtesy of Ben Finn. Logan wondered if he should attempt to like the man, given that he was one of Lucille's few remaining friends. Besides, Logan could perhaps use some friends himself.

He was less impressed by her interaction with Reaver. Logan had heard some baseless rumours about his sister and Reaver, but he had assumed they were just spiteful gossip. Lucille wasn't reckless enough to risk that kind of stain on her reputation, nor was she naive enough to think Reaver might actually possess human emotion. It wouldn't be the first rumour to be spread about her.

The people muttered about how Lucille was just a front for Logan to continue ruling. Her status as Hero – making her the natural heir to their mother's legacy – meant that she was a useful puppet to hide behind. Especially when combined with her ability to protect her brother using Hero talents. However, if he was openly deferential towards her then perhaps the word would start to spread that Lucille was a more than capable ruler.

And if that failed, Logan would leave. Their relationship may have healed over time, but he would not harm his sister's position just so that he could continue to live in the comfort of the castle. She deserved better than that.

...


	13. The Weight of Inevitability

**A/N: Well, this would be the final chapter, month twelve! I've realised that technically Page and Kalin should still be with Lucille at this point, but they aren't. It makes more sense this way. I'm not sure how well I've managed the action parts (they're tricky to write!). Anyway, thank you so, so much to everyone who read, reviewed, favourited or whatever else. It's marvellous. Anyway, on with the show! :)**

...

Month Twelve: The Weight of Inevitability

...

Lucille gripped the balustrade apprehensively. She seemed to feel nervous subconsciously these days, even on those rare occasions when she forgot the impending invasion.

She stood in the castle gardens, looking out at the city – where currently soldiers were being garrisoned at the walls, reports were coming in from the watchtowers, and civilians were being informed that when the alarm was given, they were to lock themselves inside their homes or the nearest safe-house and ensure that a fire was kept burning at all times. The soldiers were as ready as they were going to be and well equipped. The civilians could hopefully be kept out of harm's way with the help of safe-houses in poorest areas. Millfields – an indefensible place – had been evacuated, as had Driftwood and Silverpines. She even had a Will-user assigned to the districts that she couldn't protect herself. They were as ready as they could be, yet every time Lucille thought of the Crawler's coming, her skin prickled and her throat dried.

Lucille felt for Sir's warm fur for reassurance. He tilted his head, licking his fingers. It gave her a small sense of comfort.

"You're sure it'll be here before the end of the week?" Ben asked, his voice serious for a change.

"Certain of it," she replied, meeting his gaze. The four of them had gathered in the garden, for no real reason other than that they couldn't really prepare any more than they already had. "Theresa appeared to me again after I became Queen and told me that I had no more than a year."

He didn't look convinced. She knew he wasn't likely to trust some mysterious woman who had only appeared to the children of the old Queen since she'd guided her all those years ago. Other than Reaver, there probably wasn't anyone still alive who'd recognise her.

"She was our mother's guide," Logan reminded him. "Theresa has no reason to lead us astray. If she truly wanted to harm us, then she wouldn't have warned us of its arrival at all. The Crawler will use doubt against you – you must trust in the Queen."

"I do," Ben said firmly. "I just think that if Theresa _really_ wanted to help us, she'd use some of that fancy Spire magic and save us the trouble. She has to be powerful – why isn't she here with us?"

Lucille frowned. She hadn't thought of that. Walter had never mentioned Theresa actually fighting alongside the Queen in any of his stories – she was always the guide, helping the four Heroes to unlock their power and destroy Lucien. At first, Lucille had assumed it was because the woman was blind, but she got the impression that Theresa was a formidable woman regardless of that.

"It doesn't matter either way," Walter spoke up, gruff and uncomfortable. He'd seemed out of sorts for a while now."I can feel it, looming over us. I can tell it will be here soon. Can't you?"

Lucille exchanged a glance with her brother. They both recognised the Crawler's touch, and it had been inching along their skin for days. It could just be the effect of a powerful memory, but she had the feeling it was more of a force they could sense because of their previous encounters. Ben was the only one who didn't feel the same sense of trepidation.

"It's been getting stronger lately," Lucille told them. "I don't even like being in a dark room these days."

"Or a small room, for that matter," Walter added. He shook himself. "Honestly, look at us. What kind of soldiers tremble at shadows, eh?"

"Time for an inspirational speech?" Ben asked with a grin. Walter cuffed him on the shoulder, smiling back with renewed vigour. Sir barked his approval at the change in tone, leaping around the soldiers.

Lucille glanced at her brother, who seemed pensive despite her friends' attempts to lighten the mood. She beckoned him to follow her further down the garden so that they could talk alone. Walter gave her an encouraging nod, and left with Ben.

Logan seemed suspicious. Even now, he still seemed to think she would take some pointless revenge on him for his past actions. If they were to charge into battle soon, she wanted to do it knowing that the people she cared about realised her feelings for them. It was time to tell her brother the conclusion she had reached a good few months ago.

"Do you remember before I ran away," she began, "when you made me kill those people, and I said I would never forgive you for it?"

"Of course," he replied solemnly.

Lucille took his hand in hers. He looked so tired from carrying all that weight for all these years. She probably looked little better. A right pair, they were.

"I forgive you, brother."

She kissed him on the cheek, giving his hand a reassuring squeeze before wandering back up the garden in the direction her friends had taken. Logan remained where he was, touching his hand to his cheek and wondering if he had just imagined it, or whether his sister truly loved him again.

...

The roaring of the battle seemed distant and hazy; the world seemed shrouded in a dark cloak. Logan remembered this feeling from several years ago. He had been on an expedition to Aurora, reaching out to the oft-forgotten colony there. The city had broken communications and he made it his personal aim to discover why – a sign of his devotion to the kingly role – instead, he had been attacked in the dark, his men slaughtered. If it hadn't been for the Aurorans, he too would have died. And now he was back in the same situation.

Fear clawed its way up his throat and he tried to choke it down. He could hear his men yelling as they attempted to cut a path to the largest safe-house in the Old Quarter. Most of the civilians in this district were holed up in there, and the Crawler's minions knew it.

Logan pressed forward, working his way up the street from the Market. He had parted ways with Lucille there, and hadn't heard from her since. She was to battle the Crawler's Children there with Walter, whilst Ben Finn lead men to assist Page's rebel army in the Industrial district.

As a Hero, Lucille required the least protection of everyone, but that didn't make him worry any less. Finn and Walter would receive the gravest retribution if harm came to his sister.

"I keep seeing things – stuff that isn't real, Your Highness," yelled Saunders, the loyal general of Logan's troops. "And it's so bloody dark! How is it doing this?"

"It's using your fear against you," Logan replied, trying to keep his voice commanding. "Remember your training. Concentrate!"

Logan swept his sword, cutting down several of the Children at once. One good thing about the wretches was that they died easily – but what they lacked in strength, they made up for in numbers and perseverance.

As his soldiers defeated a horde of shadows, the fog obscuring Logan's sight eased a little. Colour seemed to seem back into his surroundings, sharpening the imagery. He could see his men more clearly – hindered by the darkness, but holding their ground. His troops had been training for this for years, and Lucille's for months. Although the circumstances were different in reality to practice, he knew they could hold out. For now.

Gazing up the road that led towards the safe-house, Logan spotted a woman stood alone amidst the shadows. They faded around her, and he sprinted up to check that she was unharmed.

As he drew closer, Logan realised he recognised the woman – shaven head, tattooed, flowing Auroran garments.

"Kalin? Why are you–"

"You abandoned us to the darkness," she replied, quiet and grave. The sounds of his soldiers fighting further down the street seemed only an echo. Kalin reached her hands out towards him. "We saved you, protected you from the Crawler, and this is how you repay us? Do you know what the Crawler did to us – in those years when we were left abandoned?"

Her impassive face twisted into a cruel smile. "We should show you..."

Logan staggered backwards, out of the way as her hands mutated into claws, black eyes consumed her entire face. The thing that had been wearing Kalin's image revealed its true form – a corrupted creation of the Crawler.

It swung an axe at him, and Logan rolled out of the way. The creature was stronger than the Children, and it glimmered in some perverse combination of light and dark. He struck at the lumpy joint of its shoulder, and the thing groaned. It whirled round to attack him again, and Logan was forced to fall back a little.

"Your Highness!"

Saunders dispatched a couple of Children, leading several soldiers to back up their leader. With the added numbers, the creature seemed unsure of who to attack. Much to Logan's delight, it decided to stick with him.

He grabbed a twisted scrap of metal from some nearby wreckage, using it to deflect the heavy strike of the monster's axe while he struck with his sword. Saunders attacked it from behind, trying to deal a fatal blow to the creature. Logan wasn't even sure if the thing would die from the same wounds as mortal beings – it seemed to almost be made of metal. There was only one way to find out.

As the creature swung round to deal with Saunders' attacks, and the soldiers that were assisting him, Logan sprang onto its back, driving his sword through its neck. It was like pushing through stone, but his efforts were rewarded as its neck came apart, head severed and body collapsing uselessly.

Logan indicated for his men to continue as he caught his breath. He had spent too much time cooped up indoors, it was making him soft.

After a moment, he joined his men, who were fighting to secure the square in front of the safe-house. There were a few machine abominations here, and he swept off to fight one. Now they knew that the creatures could be defeated through decapitation, his soldiers were cutting through them more effectively.

If they could hold this area, the civilians would remain safe.

"Brother!"

Logan stared at the image of his sister several metres away, waving at him. Behind her their parents stood proudly. He wasn't about to be fooled a second time, not with such an obvious illusion. Pointing the tip of his blade towards the apparitions, he braced himself as Lucille approached, her hand extended in the same gesture that Kalin had offered before she changed.

Their mother drew a pistol from her hip, levelling it at his sister's undefended back. She smirked, pulling the trigger whilst their father watched indifferently. Lucille's smile froze on her face as she pitched forwards. As she hit the ground, her body dissipated into shadows.

Logan – confused and unnerved – looked up from the spot where his fake-sister had vanished. He looked over at where his parents stood. They had been replaced by Ben Finn and Walter Beck. Walter lowered the gun and smiled at Logan, before both of them disappeared.

It had just been a hallucination, he knew that. The attack from the fake-Kalin had been proof enough that he would be foolish to believe anything he saw. The Crawler would twist his fears and regrets until it drove him mad. He had seen it happen to his soldiers in Aurora.

"Your Highness," said Saunders, still addressing him as a member of the royal family despite his being disinherited. "We've managed to secure this area. The Children seem to be falling back to the Market quarter."

"The Market?" Logan repeated. He looked around at the Old Quarter square. The soldiers were weary and suspicious, but most were still standing and the safe-house hadn't been breached. They would be able to hold off any shadows if he left them here. Logan frowned. He had an obligation to remain with his men, but he also had a duty to protect his sister and queen. The hallucination hadn't been real, but it had disturbed him – the Crawler knew her as a threat, and it would face her directly. It had been whispering in his head since it arrived, baiting him with threats against his sister's life, promises that her efforts to save the people would be in vain.

"Make sure none of the Crawler's minions come near the safe-house, and trust nothing you see or hear," Logan instructed his general. "I'm going to the Market district to see what the situation is there. If the Crawler is concentrating its attack on the queen then she may need reinforcements."

"I understand, we'll give no quarter to those bastards," Saunders replied with a knowing look. He snapped off a quick salute. "Be careful, Your Highness."

Logan nodded, and set off to find his sister.

...

The soldiers in Bowerstone Market were holding off their adversaries almost as well as Logan's forces had. At least, there didn't appear to be any civilian casualties. He noticed that the soldiers also seemed to be trying to keep the Children from nearing Bow Street. Following his instincts, Logan set off down the street, meeting little opposition.

The sound of Ben Finn's frustrated shouts guided him and the sense of trepidation grew.

Logan spotted the soldier pounding on what appeared to be a translucent wall, yelling through it. As he drew nearer, Finn abruptly fell silent. The shimmering shield collapsed and the soldier passed through the archway to a small courtyard.

As Logan reached the scene, he slowed down, taking in what he was seeing. Walter was lying in Lucille's arms, battered and blood-soaked as he murmured something to her. Lucille was sobbing brokenly, looking almost as battle-stained as her old mentor. Logan hadn't seen her this distraught for a long time. She seemed to have hardened lately, and emotional torrents were a thing of the past, but this tragedy had broken through her defences. He wanted to comfort her, but Ben Finn was already there, kneeling by her side, squeezing her shoulder gently as she wept over the loss of her father-figure.

Logan still wasn't sure what had happened, but he noticed that the sounds of battle had faded. It wasn't as before, when the darkness was dampening his senses. This peace seemed genuine. Had Lucille and Walter faced the Crawler? Why hadn't Finn been alongside them? Perhaps it sensed some of its taint within the survivors and had singled them out. He wondered if Walter had died heroically. He imagined so; the old soldier had been almost as much a Hero as their mother had been.

Walter had been the friend and guardian to Lucille that Logan hadn't been for years. He had once loved Walter as a surrogate father, but they had been distant for some time. His sister's bond had only grown stronger.

"Lucille," Logan said gently. "The battle is over – you need to inform the people that they are safe. You can't grieve for Walter just yet."

She stared at him.

"He's right," Ben said unexpectedly. He wrapped an arm round the devastated queen, lifting her to her feet. "Wally wouldn't want us to leave the job half-finished, would he? First we sort out the city, then we give Walter the send off he deserves."

"A Hero's send off," Logan finished.

Lucille nodded wearily, wiping her eyes. She left her weapons discarded on the paving slabs, and readied herself to direct her people. If there was a lesson she had learned over the past several months, it was that the people came first, no matter how hard the decision involved.

...

The statue didn't have half as much presence as Walter had in life, but it was the best likeness. It managed to convey the respect and humour that had been embodied in the old soldier. Lucille thought he would like his statue to overlook the city he had loved.

Several members of the Swift Brigade were lined up, firing shots into the sky as Lucille observed a minute's silence with Logan, Ben, Jasper and Sir. Only Lucille and Ben knew the specifics of how Walter had died, and they had decided to keep silent about it. They wouldn't have the Crawler trying to smear his good name through people learning that it had taken possession of his body. Walter had died bravely in defence of his country – it was the truth, and it was all anyone needed to know. She would've held a week-long celebration in honour of Walter, given the choice, but she knew the treasury's wealth would be better spent on repairing the damage done to the city.

She was finally going to be able to rule as she had wanted to; with no threat of death looming over them, she could tax her people normal rates and make sure they weren't oppressed by people like Reaver – who had conveniently disappeared since the Crawler's attack. Walter had said he was proud of her, but she intended to prove his words true. She would be the greatest ruler Albion had seen – enough to rival her mother.

Lucille noticed that Jasper's shoulders were trembling slightly as he stared at the statue of his old friend. The butler and the soldier had been like her parents for years, assuming the role that her deceased parents couldn't fill and her brother didn't want to fill. She dropped a hand around his shoulders, squeezing them gently. Lucille had never known him express much emotion, and he seemed to be struggling to bottle it up.

As the firing ceased, Ben gave a hearty salute to the statue. Lucille smiled – Walter would appreciate the humour.

The soldiers filed away, leaving the small group in the presence of the statue. Lucille looked over at Ben, still comforting Jasper as she spoke. "What do you think you're going to do now?"

Ben scratched his chin, giving her one of his usual grins. "I think I want to travel a bit – being a general really isn't for me, and there's a lot of the world I've yet to see."

"And naive noblewomen to sweep off their feet," Lucille added.

"Ah, no, my heart's already taken," he replied. Ben gave a thoughtful glance towards the Industrial district. "I'll probably see if Page needs any help too, so long as she doesn't skin me alive when I turn up."

"I'm sure she'll be delighted to have your help. Just try to make sure she doesn't start a rebellion against me," Lucille gave him a wry smile, "at least not until I've had a good shot at this leadership business."

Ben shrugged. "Hey, you saved almost all of Albion – no one can argue with those results. Well... except maybe Page... you have a point. I'll tell her all about your noble qualities when I see her."

Lucille maintained a smile, even if it was slightly forced now. She was still a little sore about her broken promises to her allies – Page in particular. The two of them had really warmed to one another despite their differences, and it seemed impossible to fix the damage. Perhaps Page would understand when she saw the kingdom Lucille intended to build... but she hadn't been any less frosty at Walter's funeral, and that had been after Lucille's measures ensured the survival of almost everyone in Albion. What more could she possibly do?

She shook her head. There was no point dwelling on broken friendships. Ben would be disappearing from her life for a while, though she knew he would return if she needed him. Jasper would of course be her friend and ally until the day he was so old that _she_ picked out his outfits and made his bed for him. Her faithful dog would also be at her side. That left her brother. Lucille felt optimistic that now the weight of the Crawler had passed, they would truly be able to catch up on all those years they had lost to apathy and misunderstanding.

"What about you then?" Ben asked, addressing Logan civilly for a change. It was a true mark in the change of the times. "Planning to put any puppies into sacks and throw them in a river?" Or perhaps not.

Logan gave the other man a raised eyebrow, but otherwise ignored him and addressed Lucille instead. "Actually, I think I too should leave. You have done what I thought impossible, by saving Albion. You are the leader I wasn't able to be, and it would be better if I wasn't here to taint your rule. You deserve a fresh start, sister."

He was gazing at her in what seemed to be proud. She had rarely seen her brother look upon her with open love and respect, but she felt mostly anger. After losing her best friend and father-figure, Logan was just going to leave?

Lucille released Jasper to the care of her dog's soft fur, and marched up to Logan furiously. She shoved his shoulder, and Logan's expression changed to confusion.

"You're abandoning me?" she demanded.

He gave her a sympathetic look. "This is what's best for Albion."

"It's not what's best for me." Lucille knew she sounded like a child, but she didn't care. Everyone she cared about was being taken from her, and she wouldn't let her brother just run off. "We've put Albion's people first for years – it's about time we considered ourselves."

"That isn't what a monarch's role is," he replied carefully, seeming mildly amused by her frustration. This only annoyed her more. "From the moment a monarch assumes the throne, the needs of the country take precedence over their own."

"Logan, you're my brother," Lucille reminded him sternly, folding her arms. "And it's time you started acting like it."

Logan's face softened into a smile and reached out, enfolding Lucille in an embrace in one smooth move. She unfolded her arms, hugging him back tightly. After losing so much of her family, she wasn't about to lose the one person she was supposed to be closest to, and yet had been alienated from for so long.

"If you truly want me to stay, then I will," he said quietly. "But remember that the people won't be any more forgiving of me now than they were before the Crawler's attack. My presence will only earn you their animosity."

Lucille laughed. "Maybe you've already forgotten, but they've just spent a year hating me. I think I can handle it – especially if it means I can have my brother back."

Logan kissed her on the forehead, and they pulled apart, smiling. They weren't two adults with the weight of the world sitting on their shoulders, having just weathered an invasion and the hatred of the entire populace; they were a young brother and sister, happy and ready to face it all together.

...


End file.
